Since dying is an event that no one has yet been able to avoid, it amazes me how terrified we are of the process. Transitioning is always difficult, and transitioning to the unknown is even more. Maybe it's because we look at what we have and have no accomplished and what we have become. Today my mother asked me, "What will become of me?" The answer, of course, is you have already become what you are. There is no more "becoming". I didn't respond. I don't think that's what she wanted to hear.

She is in peace, surrounded by her paintings, photographs, quilts, friends, furniture. The "stuff" of her life. But, the stuff that she has collected over the years. Souvenirs of the process of becoming. 

She has been in Glenridge (a retirement community) now for about 3 years. She's made many lasting friends. They wander over to her room, hold her hand, tell her stories. These people are near her age, some older, some younger. Mostly they comment on her care, how peaceful she is and how grateful they are that they too will be able to enjoy the same level of care. These friends have been a solace for me as they look at life through their experiential eyes, and help me to see that it's all okay, that we've made the right choices.