Like many baby boomers, I have been dealing with the heart breaking issue of aging and ailing parents.  I have been watching my Mother's once brilliant mind float away on a gentle breeze as age, illness and brain drain, ravage her frail little body.

 I will always think of her and remember her as the iron will that ruled our home with humor, class and a fiery wit.  But more important than that, her words are carved in stone and forged with fire on my life lists of do's and don'ts.  The number one DON'T is: Keep me alive when I am no longer the person you have known all of your life and am ready to go. Don't make me beg!

My Mother (and the rest of my family) watched my Grandmother painfully turn into someone else. We watched as my incredibly brilliant, caustic, razor edged lawyer of an Aunt turned into a sweet 3 year old before our eyes. But thankfully, she never suffered and went quietly in her sleep.

We watched Cancer strike and ravage my other Grand Mother  in what was a very long and very cruel march to death.  She wanted to go on her own terms.  She was ready and her burden of life had become unbearable.  She begged for death.  In those days, it made no difference.

My Mother always wanted a very different end.   She  made her list and checked it twice.  She did this years ago when she was what I will always remember.  She has begun the early stages of Hospice (These are the true angels of pure mercy) and thankfully, is in no pain.  She is sweet,childlike and loving and every once in a while, that Mommy of old visits and oh, what joy those visits bring. We debate politics, extract cherished recipes and memories and then in an instant, she is gone.  She isn't suffering at all and her world is of memories and the daily re-discovered  joy of having a newly born Great Grand Daughter (who is now going on two).  Her path floats down a soft path and we, her 3 daughters and my 92 year old Father, hold her hand and walk along side.  She is sweet.

Should my Mother's burden of life ever become so painful and hard for her that she begs for death as did my Grand Mother, the biggest gift I could give her would be holding her hand and letting her go. I would and could not hesitate as she, herself wrote it in stone and forged the directive in fire.

 At the moment, I am Scarlett O'Hara and will think about that tomorrow as I now prepare to cross the country for what will probably be my last immediate family reunion to celebrate the High Holy Days.  We will eat apples dipped in honey and remember the sweetness of the year - and witness with great love - the sweetness of my Mother.

I love you Mommy!