Good Evening Community of Friends and Family - 

The desire to ask for a collective deep breath is needed. We, Cheryl’s team, that is, feel the need to be transparent…it was a difficult first day of VSED, holding many emotions for mom and her tribe. At times Mom felt comfort while listening to a good friend sing the beautiful song “Goin’ Home,” napping with Joanne by her side and spending time with family - but the reality that the VSED process had begun was extremely challenging at times. 

When mom awoke this morning, she immediately asked David for her cup of morning tea. As soon as he reminded her this was Day #1 of VSED they both sat, held each other and cried together. Even though the decision to begin VSED at this time came directly from mom and her desire to hasten death through VSED has never wavered in almost 5 years, acting upon the decision, especially in these early days, can be exhausting, especially for an expressive human like our sweet mama. 

The visit from our Hospice nurse was helpful as the combination of the Alzheimer’s brain, starting Lorazapam for anxiety, and the lack of food and water seemed, at times, to create calmness, exhaustion and confusion. Tomorrow is a new day and we will see what unfolds for all as we literally move hour-by-hour with her waves of emotion. 

In all of this, we cannot begin to share how greatly we appreciate the constant support we’ve received from this community. From emails, phone calls and texts, delivered meals to video recordings, from the Hospice Team to the Death Doulas who have been both present and also at our beckon call, we feel your support and it helps immeasurably. We also, as a family, feel gratitude for the ability to support mom through this process with a circle of light and love, an energy not always found for those at the end of life. 

Thank you, sweet people. More tomorrow.

- Wendy

Today has presented another rainbow of emotions for all on Waters Edge Drive. 

This morning, soon after Mom awoke, she asked her graceful and steady caregiver, Pauline, for a Diet Coke. When Pauline reminder Mom of this journey she had begun, as well as the strength of Mom’s character and her wish to receive our support around VSED, Mom responded with a deep breath, perhaps a not-so-subtle eye roll, and moved onto the next moment. Her confusion continued, at times, throughout the day when she didn’t recognize myself or Sarah, as well as calmly hallucinating while sitting outside on the deck. These weren’t necessarily scary times but different. 

During the day when Mom was exhausted, she'd peacefully fall asleep on the sofa while speaking or listening to those around her, Alexa playing Chris Botti in the background. At others moments she expressed clarity when stating “This is going so fast!” referring to the dying process. This said, the highs were beautiful and bittersweet. When seeing her best friend from college, Annie who flew in from Boston, she immediately embraced her with sobs of joy and sadness. Annie’s arrival was another reminder to Mom that VSED had begun. Wonderfully, Mom did not back away from receiving a gentle massage by the Hospice Massage Therapist - Thankfully, the woman still loves being touched! Mom was also visited my grandkids One of our two generous Death Doulas came for a needed visit - As well as nourishing food and flower deliveries of all kinds. Thank you, friends. 

In general, the shift in Mom’s nature continues to move faster than we had anticipated and, in doing so, her care-team continues to provide all the possible comfort measures. We do our best to keep this incredibly sacred space calm, yet, gently flowing with good vibrations. Gratitude is felt for the birds that constantly fill the days with song, the sun keeps our chins up and the wind reminds us all that we don’t have complete control. 

Last night when I was sitting on the back patio with David while brother Blake, Pauline and Mom were watching "The Woman in Gold” (I believe Mom has seen this movie at least two dozen times as she holds a personal connection to the beautiful, true story), he shared with me a lyric from "The Sound of Music" which immediately made me cry…"But somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have done something good.” He nailed it. This is how we, Mom’s family and caregivers, feel due to the tremendous outpour of love and support that continues to come our way. We sense a shiny orb circling this home - And even at times when it feels like a swirling tornado is attempting to break this orb, we do feel blessed and Mom feels safe. 

We are so proud of Mom’s focus to let go and trust the process.

Warmly, Wendy

My eyes are burning.

They are burning because I refused to let them blink for too long because I don’t want to miss a moment with you.

They burn because I crawled in bed with you at 8am and we wept in each other’s arms.

They burn because you asked for water and I had to remind you.

My eyes burn because at 10am I witnessed five beautiful women, whom we have never met, come and sing to you in the morning sun. They sang Edelweiss and You Are My Sunshine. Then we all sang together - your and Helen Reddy's anthem: I am Woman.

The social worker came. I cried in gratitude for the support we have. The nurse came. I cried when discussing the meds that ease your discomfort, but also make draw you so far away from me, and from you. My eyes burned in disbelief when Peter, of Peter, Paul & Mary zoomed in from NY. Peter sang to you as if you were his newborn grandchild. He sang Puff, the Magic Dragon, If I Had a Hammer, and Blowin’ in the Wind. These are no longer songs to me, they are anthems to love like you have never loved before.

And then my eyes….My eyes bared witness to three of the most important people in my life, my two nephews and niece see you: their Nonnie. You are such a different person than the one they saw just one week ago. They saw you heading toward the light. I saw them grieve. I saw their mama, my sister comfort you with all her being.

And my eyes burned. 

My eyes will close tonight and prepare for another day. A day when we are filled with love. A day when my eyes will witness more goodbyes. Another day that I will examine your face – so I don’t miss a moment with you. Just like I did the moment when my daughter Metta was born.

My eyes are burning and my heart is saying: Remember this face, remember this moment. There will never be another like it.

My burning eyes are worth all the lessons you have taught me and will continue to for so many, many years to come.

I love you mama,
Sarah

_______

Mom’s cup runneth over today as we worked through her needs as each hour shifted. Honestly, it was another difficult day for Mom but Team Cheryl continued to never waver with dedication in making her as comfortable as possible.

The morning began with a visit from an incredibly gifted group of vocalists from the Morning Star Singers - As we listened and sang to more than a half-dozen songs including "I Am Woman", a first for that group, Mom was engaged at times and we all could sense their calming spirit fill the home. Mom's legs were rubbed, her hair brushed, and head massaged throughout the day, and she responded well to touch. More grandchildren visited which was both heartbreaking and beautiful.

A highlight for many was the gift of being sung to by Peter Yarrow himself, as is the Peter from Peter, Paul & Mary - A big thank you to Jenny and Ken Fritz for making this happen! Totally unbelievable. 

I will leave you with a quote from our time with the magical Peter...“As I’ve gone through this experience I figured out why we're here, what is the purpose of life…It’s just like love - What is the purpose of love? Love exists to experience it. It doesn’t have to have a crescendo or an ending of bugles and horns and angels - the experience of love, the experience of life, if we have a sense that we belong to each other - and if on this earth we make our presence a part of creating more love and happiness, that is the purpose and reason for life.” This is our mom, who is creating love for all to witness and absorb. 

Our gratitude for all of your love and kindness right back to Mom,

Wendy

The days are so full. And I can be honest with you all, I am exhausted. If I may compare it to birth, which I will go into some point in the future, I feel just like I do after a three-day-long intensive birth. It is mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausting. AND I feel so very very blessed to have this team and my mama to teach me more and more about the process of Conscious Dying. (Thank you, divine singer, Barbra McAfee for teaching us this blessed term). 

There are phases to everything. We learned from one of our End of Life Doulas, Nina, that when the ability to stand and walk has left, the Earth Element has left her body. Her legs are too weak to walk or stand. 

Mom was carried down from the 2nd floor to the 1st floor by Wendy, Todd, Pauline (our care provider), and myself. - She will never be in her and David’s bedroom again. Last night was the last night that they will have slept together. This breaks my heart.

I am constantly marking the hours of these days knowing it could be my LAST. I don’t want to miss any moment, any glimmer of Mom that reminds me of why I, and so many others love her so much. She has always risen to the challenge and VSED is no exception. It is hard to watch and harder to commit to, but she is stronger than anyone could imagine. In these intense moments, she has shown us all how committed she is to the conscious decision to die on her own terms - with dignity and grace. 

I continue to learn SO much from her - especially in these final days.

Off to bed and praying her very restless body will surrender tonight. (Thank you Todd for sleeping next to her in a chair).

Love,
Sarah

——————————————————-

It was a long day for all of us but especially mom. I don’t have energy to make this day’s blog post flow…but let’s just say, there was a current running through the house, some waves stronger than others. 

Mom is still at times restless, her legs can become uncomfortable, and she has minimal energy or strength to move from sofa, to deck, to bed and then back again. We began using a Broda Wheelchair which makes mom feel, at times, as if she’s laid back on a fairly comfortable cloud. We are continuing to provide her Lorazepam 4x a time and this afternoon added Morphine. We are praying for a more relaxing day for our badass, one-in-a-million, she is my hero, mother during the day tomorrow - And believe this will be the case. 

This small group of caregivers have shared bright and impactful moments we'll never forget. Today Mom visited with more grandchildren and family, listened to parts of eulogies, smiled and wiggled her feet when receiving hugs, welcomed her best friend in from Florida, was graced by the presence and voice of incredibly talented and giving, Barbara McAfee, and took part in a String Ceremony lead by one of our generous Death Doulas, Nina Guertin. I will leave you with the words Nina shared with us today… 

"The String Ceremony is derived from the ancient Buddhist and Tibetan red string ritual. The string is a Cord of Protection and blessing. Cheryl chose yellow and black string for today’s ritual, because those are her favorite colors. The color yellow represents intellect, creativity, happiness and power. It also promotes clarity of thought and intellectual development for spiritual ends. It represents vitality, Spring, and optimism and also indicated warmth enlightenment. The color black represents the unconscious and mystery, protection, power and strength. In nature, we see it overhead painted across the night sky. Black helps bring awareness inward, allowing you to feel, think, and observe in peace. This depth allows you to be vulnerable and authentic while feeling protected.” While this small group, including mom, held the small two strings of yellow and black, we shared our blessing for Mama, with words of love and gratitude. 

If you are so moved, put on something yellow and black when you want to channel our Mama. We think she’ll feel you.

Sleep tight,
Wendy

With the gift of this weather, I’ve been biking to and back from Mom and David’s house everyday since Day #1 of VSED. And I ride by the Memory Care Unit where our beloved Uncle Will-Bill spent a short period of time 7 years ago. Each bike by, I thank him for the incredible gift he gave us….Of living with this dreadful disease and making it clear there might be another option than to live to the very end.

I think many of Cheryl’s care/love givers felt a shift with Mom today. The amount of interactions and conscious moments were fewer than we’ve seen. This said, we are sure mom felt the vibrations of the glorious singing coming out of the months of her Sacred Journey friends who sang with their compassionate hearts while circling Mom and David. She breathed lighter after her energy healing session given by a dear friend. She smiled when we told her stories and talked about what she is going to wear when she dies. And when I looked deep into her eyes, while singing 'You Are My Sunshine' which turned into a rousing 'Just Too Many People' by Melissa Manchester (which definitely helped Sarah and myself sing through a few pails of tears), she stared right back at me with her steady and strong, ocean blues, taking it all in. 

The emails, texts, playlists, poems, serenade videos (wink wink, we love you J.B.), food, wine, snacks and more are all making this journey just a little softer and definitely allows us to keep the focus 100% on Mom (and loving ourselves as well, we promise). Know that even when we don’t get back to you, we read everything you send directly to mom. She feels you. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.

Mom is not going too soon but she feels ready.

Until tomorrow,
Wendy

_________________

9:03 pm - Sitting next to mama as I just tucked her in for what will be a very calm night. I can hear David and Todd, my partner, outside on the deck. They are just shooting the shit…and it feels so damn good to hear. I hear laughter. I can hear the relief in their voices that we made it through a beautiful day giving all the love we could to my mama.

And I feel their relief - that their beds, or couches, will be cradling them soon. 

We would never trade a second that we have with Cheryl. And yet these days remind me of the days (and nights) with a newborn baby – the hours are so long and the days are slipping by far too quickly. 

Last night Pauline and Todd were godsends – being with Cheryl when she was extremely restless and agitated from 3:00 am-6:00 am.

I came down around 7:00 am to simply sit next to her as she slept.

I bawled my eyes out as I sat beside her. All I could think about was ;

There will Never be another…
Deep heartfelt conversation. 
Fun shopping trip to Target. 
Planning for a wedding.
Shopping for something fancy for Metta.
Graduation or future celebration of any sort… 

But then my dear friends swooped in via text and held me… as I turned my sorrow into anger… and then anger into hysterics. (Too much to write for the post but ask me about it any day and I would love to tell you.)

Around 8:30 am mama started to stir and get restless. (Her body seemed to mostly be aching from dehydration and… well, all of the things). So, I climbed into her bed with her. I wrapped my body around her as if there was a storm coming towards us and I wanted to protect her. And shit! There is a storm. A storm that is so deeply transformational, breathtaking, and life changing… It is these moments that condense us all down to just this. My arms wrapped around her. Our inhale. Our exhale. We snuggled as if there was nothing left on earth to do.

Her breath is changing even as I write this. Not good or bad. Just different. Like that newborn baby breath, when they have milk tucked into the back of their cheeks. The kind that makes you lean in. And listen. Are you good? 

The day was broken up by several visits from friends, (Amen for Kris Koch-Wahl and her energy work she did on mama), a nurse from hospice, (all seems to be going well and “normal”), and an amazing visit from the singers of Sacred Journey. (I thought I had cried hard the past week, but having a group of dear musicians come and sing to your mama all of the spiritual songs you’re raised on, well that was a crying I had not experienced).

And now, at 9:10 pm, I feel so full and so desperate. I have never ever wanted something to end so quickly, and I have never wanted time to stand still.

My mama’s hands have always been thin, elegant and soft as a baby’s butt. But tonight as I say goodnight to her, I am aware of the change. Her skin is the same, soft and lovely as ever, but underneath it is different. Where once there was the lively and full hand of my mother (playing piano, conducting to her favorite song, or just raised in constant greeting), now it feels like nothing but skin and bone.

Dear lord, please keep the prayers, the joy, and the support coming our way. We are so grateful for you all. 

We are 5 days in, with many days to go. I would do anything to make this easy on her. She is so ready. But damn, her body is so strong and healthy. (And she didn’t even eat organic)!

Hold one another tight tonight. 

Thanks and love to you all. 

Good night.
Xo Sarah

My mother has always been a woman of many words… but sadly not today. Throughout the day, all we heard was about 5 words from Cheryl. And yet, all day long we all knew that she was listening to every word we were saying. 


We saw some smiles. Smiles I will never ever forget. Smiles when I told her: Todd and I are going to name our new boat after her. Smiles when David and I were recalling her work at Life Style Lifts. (That was a funny/great job she had for a chapter in her life). She was the TOP salesperson in the country and yet, we all know, she was just making people feel seen. 

Cheryl always said that she could truly, in her own words, “Sell ice to an Eskimo.” (Apologies as I am sure that is not appropriate anymore!) We talked about how QVC almost scooped her up. Amen that didn’t come true. Wow! It felt so damn good to reminisce and laugh. This is the magic in not losing someone abruptly.

Her body was way more still today. She slept almost 95% of the day. She did not urinate, which we know is a ‘normal’ around day 6.

Visitors were less today than it has been. David was able to catch his breath. Wendy and Cheryl Cooper took the two grand-girls to a movie. Blake worked on our dad’s farm. And Sarah and Todd had a ‘date’ to the brewery. (Everyone is in their roles, I guess. Lol).

The biggest change today, and truly the hardest, is in mama’s eyes.

We all witnessed her presence through her beautiful blue eyes for a few minutes a few times throughout the day. But, sadly, most of the day, she looked through us. She is looking deep into the unknown. It seems as if she is so curious and willing to go there, and we, the living, miss her looking into our eyes.

Fortunately, she was able to hear all three of her kids sing, read poetry, and love her up as the sun set on what was again the most beautiful night. 

(Tip #22. If and when you choose VSED, do it in the months when you can be outside. Yes, that means only 5 months you can choose from in MN).

We are so grateful for the sunshine and fresh air and hearing the birds sing from the deck. No doubt the weather gods have smiled upon us. Smiled upon Cheryl.

Now it’s 8:52, so I am signing off to say good night when I see this: David is kissing her goodnight. This man, this man, he loves her so.

Loving you and feeling the prayers and love,
Sarah

_________________

Today brought less movement throughout the house and Mom, although at times a little agitated, seemed a bit more at peace than previous days. We sang in her ears, blew on her neck, mashed our faces into her cheeks, we made sure she knew she was not alone. Maybe a half-dozen times or more her eyes would stay open for 5-10 minutes and she appeared aware of energies around her, but not necessarily being able to focus on one person. Her body continues to show signs of dehydration as her energy stays clear and open (Thanks to the energy work by one of our Death Doula’s, as she checked in with mom’s chakras). 

During the months leading up to the beginning of VSED, sometimes Mom would panic and frantically ask David or her children, “Well...you’re going to be there when I'm dying, right?!?!” Oh sweet Mom, this walk we are taking alongside of you during your final days is a privilege we'd wish for anyone. Although I usually don’t share private and cherished moments with the public, I’ve willed myself to become OK with the videos we’ve posted because, simply, Mom asked for others to be a part of this journey, this sacred passage of time. She wants those to be curious about death, to have open conversations regarding one's hopes and desires surrounding end-of-life. It has brought us here today. 

This evening before I headed home, my siblings and I sat around Mom on the deck, where Mom spent many hours today in her Broda Wheelchair outside in the breeze. As my brother read aloud the poem below, we asked for him to read it again and then again, one for each of us. The tears flowed and while it’s emotionally painful, I felt this is exactly where we are supposed to be while Mom is preparing to go home. 

Wendy

Sacred Dying  

You are blessed in the Mother’s eyes;
You are blessed in your children’s eyes;
You are blessed in all of your doings;
You are blessed in all of your endings;
You are blessed and purified.
There is no pain where you are going; 
There is no sadness where you are received;
There is only happiness of going home; 
There is only the bless of having arrived.

Zauzsanna E. Budapest
from The Goddess in the Bedroom 

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
- A.A. Milne 

You know that book The Napping House? Today, for me at least, it felt like The Crying House. Believe me, it’s just how Mom would want it. 

Mom has not drunk or eaten for a full week but it feels like a month. Thankfully for her, in general, she continues to display less frustration and anxiety as she sometimes even makes it clear what her body is desiring…possibly to sit up or be lifted higher in bed, maybe a small spray of water for mouth comfort or a blanket removed. Mom has not left her bed since 3 am this morning. This is a first. It’s unclear what tomorrow looks like aside from receiving dosages of lorazepam and morphine every four hours which helps tremendously. 

We were visited by a Hospice Massage Therapist, one of our two Hospice Nurses, and a Hospice Music Therapist. These are lovely humans who are treating Mom with a great amount of respect and dignity. With each visit, the air felt lighter, especially in Mom’s bedroom. 

At times Mom feels so far away yet still right next to me. This evening, Sarah warned her I might keep her awake with my snoring since I’m sleeping close by…Wouldn’t that be a fine moment? My mom always thought it was so funny how much I talked about my sleeping patterns. I’d do anything for her to shush me this evening! 

As always, thank you, thank you for your continual words, prayers, nourishment, and yellow light directed toward Mom and her care team. 

Finishing this day with another new favorite, shared by one of Mom’s friends…

The Peace of Wild Things - Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives might be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief.  I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Sleep well,
Wendy 

________________

Day #7/8 7:30 am 

I am going to answer the question that so many of you have asked, and that I know so many of you are quietly wondering: What are the Doctors saying? What are the nurses saying?

I take these questions as: How much longer does Cheryl, your sweet mama have?

To be clear, Dr. 's are not physically with us. And nurses only come every-other day for about an hour. The time is mostly spent sharing what the days have been like and generally discussing medication. The nurses then do a quick examination. They listen to her heart, always so strong. They listen to her lungs and breathing, which they say is changing a bit. They look at her color and her changing body and they always say, “She is doing so well. Everything looks normal”.

I try in my sneaking ways to ask “Can you please just tell me where we are in this process”! But what I really want to SCREAM is, “How long will she be with us!? How many more days do I get to hold her hands, sing to her and stare at her?! How many more days do I have to pray that she peacefully goes and gets to see her mom and dad!? How many more days…”?

But I know the answer. There is no answer. It could be the next 1-3 days. And it could be more than a week. We truly don’t know.

It’s beautiful and it’s painful.

The lesson here for all is, we have no control. We have to completely let go and trust the process.

As a birth doula this DOES NOT come easy to me, and yet I have learned over and over and again and again to let go and surrender. And shit, let me tell you, it never gets easier.

And yes, me comparing this to birth is SO similar, and completely different. This is MY MOTHER we are talking about. Not a doula client.

I love you all. I know you each want to know the answer. The answer is to stay in the moment, breathe deep and pray that our healthcare system will one day change so that my daughter never ever has to make a decision about VSED.

Off to a new day!

Thank you Wendy for sleeping with mama. Thank you Molly for the massage. I feel like the pause I took yesterday will help get me through today.

After a restless night for mom, the first half of today was primarily focused on tweaking Mom’s medications while creating the best possible med schedule that eases as much anxiety and discomfort as possible. One of our Hospice nurses visited midmorning and observed Mom for a few hours - A true gift to receive her unscheduled time, knowledge and guidance. We discussed the shifts in Mom such as her feet becoming a bit more cold, her lips a little more dry and the time between each breath is spreading. All helpful observations as we continue to notice changes as they will be increasing over the next few days. 

We were also visited by our Hospice Chaplain who lead the family, including Mom, in a needed meditation while sitting on the shaded back deck. These moments provide needed self care and, ideally, guide us to be even more present during these days.   

Mom didn’t say very much today, but, what she did express was poignant... “I want to go home.” She is so ready. 

We were deeply grateful for the food, flower, poetry deliveries (even the unscheduled ones!) and were especially touched with the yellow and black balloon bouquet drop off, as well as the homemade vanilla ice cream, even with Mom-themed logo! 

Later in the afternoon our minister and dear friend, Sally Johnson, lead us in the following blessing, written by Jan Richardson. Holding on to these words as I sign off... 

Sleep well,
Wendy

Blessing That Does Not End
- by Jan Richardson from The Cure of Sorrow 

From the moment it first laid eyes on you, this blessing loved you. 

This blessing knew you from the start.

It cannot explain how. 

It just knows that the first time it sat down beside you, it entered into a conversation
that had already been going on forever. 

Believe the conversation has not stopped. 

Believe this love still lives - the love that crossed am impossible distance to reach you,
to find you, to take your face into its hands and bless you. 

Believe this does not end - that the gesture, once enacted, endures. 

Believe this love goes on - that it still takes your face into its hands, that is presses its foreheads to yours as it speaks to you in undying words, that is has never ceased to gather your heart into its heart. 

Believe this blessing abides. Believe it goes with you always. Believe it knows you still. 

This morning, while standing next to my sister on the hot driveway pavement, eyes shut, breathing in the sun's rays for a moment or two, we asked the Universe for peace for our Mother. Soon into my next breath, I felt Mom's guardian angels give clear direction to simply slow down the movement surrounding her room, her spirit, and create more tranquility as we move into these next few days. It was a needed sign, advocating for Mom’s needs, what she cannot say herself. 

Anyone who spoke with Mom over the past few years would have heard “I am not afraid of dying, it’s the goodbye-ing that is so hard.” She wanted to be in the thick of the action, a key-player in her loved ones' lives. These past 9 days we believe our Mom has sensed rich moments, some painful, but more often beautiful; the connections with others, music absorbed, stories shared, laughter circling her space. And now, stillness is called for. 

Mom will not be leaving her bed going forward but, instead, will be adjusted multiple times a day to create the most comfortable positions for her. The changes in her body continue - Her face coloring remains bright but her oxygen levels have lowered, her heart rate is up, and her body temperature varies greatly from her head to her toes. 

We don’t know how many days she has left with us. The literature on VSED states that people, on average, will die from Voluntarily Stopping Eating and Drinking between 6-15 days, but every human's body and story are different from the other. Mom’s vitals were strong during her first Hospice doctor’s visit (way back last Monday) and the doctor shared her thoughts that “it could be some time for her to die.” We believe mom is doing her work of consciously dying, of birthing death, and it will take the time it needs. 

As I’ve mentioned before, our Uncle Will-Bill gave us the gift of bearing witness to the brutality that can come with Alzheimer’s. The care provided throughout Will-Bill’s journey by our dear Aunt Angell was incredibly thoughtful, all the way through to his last breath as he was soon placed in a hand-built, wood coffin, with layers of the natural world cocooning his body.  We don’t know if Will-Bill would have chosen the VSED path had he known about this option but mom did know about it, embraced it, and remained unwavering with her commitment to it until the very end. 

Leaving you with a quote sent by a friend today - We so appreciate these heart lifting words shared by you all! 

 I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. And I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion. - Madeline Miller, from The Song of Achilles

Warmly,
Wendy

Mama, we weren’t sure how this day would run its course but you did. 

We made pinch pots, firmly pressing in your unique thumbprint, making the edges into rays of sunlight, reminding of us of your gleaming look on life. 

We placed A&D ointment on your lips, the smell that reminded us of our childhood and you of motherhood, while leaving your face untouched as it continued to radiate and glow. 

We whispered to you words yet unsaid, grandchildren held your hands and said goodbye.

We received a gift of a mandala from Cheryl the Doula, as well as leaving a yellow bouquet of roses, as if she magically knew our need for fresh, yellow flowers to adorn mom’s body for after she had died. 

And while your daughter and granddaughter were just home from a walk to YUM for cookies, while your son and best friend were sharing stories of you in the living room, while I was just a few miles away on my bike listening to John Denver sing 'Sunshine on My Shoulders', and while the love of your life sat beside you, reading one of the many emails people had shared with us these past 10 days, you decided… I am done here, my work is completed, and I am ready to move through this next threshold.  

At 4:20 PM our Mom took her last, glorious breath. Her journey on earth had been completed yet her light remains inside of us. We can feel her.  

It was an honor to walk you home, Mama.

Wendy & Family

Sunshine On My Shoulders

If I had a day that I could give you
I’d give to you a day just like today
If I had a song that I could sing for you
I'd sing a song to make you feel this way

Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry
Sunshine on the water looks so lovely
Sunshine almost always makes me high

If I had a tale that I could tell you
I'd tell a tale sure to make you smile
If I had a wish that I could wish for you
I'd make a wish for sunshine all the while