That’s a wealth of experiences that you’ve had in seeing lots of people die, Beverley. I have not, so it’s still kind of a strange thing to me. It does make me appreciate more the nurses and doctors and pastors and caregivers who do it on a routine basis, yet never let it become routine. After watching my mother die, it brought home the realization that being present at a birth and being present at a death are similar in some ways, each one ushering a life into another world.

I’m sorry you’ve had so many losses too, Candace. I know that the longer we live–and the more people we love–the more losses we’ll all have. It hurts, but thank God we learn to keep living and loving anyway.

Yes, Jean. Death is not a subject that many are comfortable with, especially the more distant we become with it. Yet death is something we know we all will face on day. Oh, the ironies.

Yes, carrying Kali in my body for part of a year, and then in my heart forever, definitely changed who I am. Thanks for your compassion, Michele. Sometimes it’s the hardest parts of our stories that have the most effects on us….

I understand what you’re saying, Natalie. When my kids were little, I would always ask God to let me stay here long enough to help them grow up. And I’m thankful that he did. Now my daughters are both in their 20s and although I think they still need their mom :), I know they’d make their way in the world independently now with or without me.