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News of her transition on February 17, 2022, grieved me. A ninety-year-old college graduate, mother, grandmother, widow, teacher, concert-trained pianist, seamstress, and volunteer, she fully tasted the joys and hardships of life.

Years of her daughter’s stories endeared me to her, especially when needing help to their rustic cabin, summers, spent at Donner Lake at Truckee, California. There, as cheerful matriarch and widow, she greeted relatives and friends, even the brown bears that wandered nearby.

After her daughter had tended the final needs of her father, the focus shifted to her mother who soldiered on, still volunteering at her church and the Chappaqua Library in New York. Her passion for books, her deep interest in people, her indomitable will fired her spirit and attracted others to her wisdom and humor. Only dementia and a cancer diagnosis slowed her down, until her Spirit-filled release last week.

So, when the mother did pass, all legal and medical and burial plans were in order, thanks to her daughter’s daily phone contacts and timely visits, often with her husband; these occurred over the years. Her selflessness to expend energy and resources, despite chronic illness, still moves me.

Her mother’s name was Marge. She will be missed.

At 7:30 A.M., I awoke with this dream:

Suddenly, I’m aware of giggling and being hugged by my five-year old brother Mark, his warm body wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and sandals, the cowlick at his hairline giving him a striking appearance.

I’ll never know if “Mark” really visited me, or whether he represents a projection of the happy child from my unconscious. Either way, I perceive the dream as gift to be cherished.

He passed on July 21, 2017.

I miss him …

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