Don't lament for me if I drop dead doing a high crescent twist in yoga, or kick the bucket while weeding around my red Russian kale in the garden, or keel over at my apron booth at the Saturday farmers market. You may pity me if I choke on a bite of Flo's filet at the Longhorn Steakhouse.  That's an embarrassing way to go and I don't want to waste good food.  But living to a ripe old age of 98 or 105 isn't my goal anymore if it means being spoon fed mechanically prepared foods and changing my diapers.  Dementia is a jail sentence without parole, a disease that steals your dignity, and causes terrible mental anguish.  It slowly devastates the patient and the family.  Cliff's mother seems to be in her final stages.  Before I left her bedside this morning, I held her hand and prayed for sleep to gently take her.  Living 1300 miles from my mother and father, I couldn't be with them as much as I should have been in their last years so all I can do is support Cliff and help comfort his mother now.

Live every moment and laugh everyday!