Originally, I had planned to visit my mother for just two weeks – our usual fall get-together, a ritual we had kept for many years. But when I arrived, it was immediately clear that she wasn’t well. She was frail, quiet, and no longer interested in food.

She kept taking turns for the worse and I kept moving my flight until the two weeks turned into two months – the most intense, terrifying and yet deeply meaningful months of my life. I never slept less. But we had incredible conversations, listened to our favorite music and cried for hours together.

She was amazingly lucid and recognized the never ending stream of beautiful people and close friends who came to visit. Flowers everywhere, tears, smiles, laughter. One of her caretakers kept baking cakes and cookies for everyone, filling the air with warmth and sweetness.

We had incredible support: kind-hearted nurses and caretakers who know the sacred process of dying, always just a call away. They answered every question, showed up at every hour, and helped us make her as comfortable as possible.

She passed away on a Tuesday night with my brother, a night nurse, and me by her side.

Wolf flew in from the US for support and Fred, my team, my friends – even strangers – extended love and help in ways I’ll never forget.

We buried her a week later in a very moving ceremony that drew people from near and far.

She was 94! A long, rich life. A peaceful passing, at home, surrounded by love. It should all feel like a blessing.
And it does…

But it was still my sweet Mom. And I can’t stop crying.

She gave me life, laughter, and music.

It’s hard. It’ll take time.

To all the Moms out there…