Yesterday, I took my 86-year old mother to the movies, something we have done for as long as I can remember. As the credits were running, while I hoisted her up on the count of three, cane in one hand, other arm clutching mine, I found myself wondering how many more Saturday matinees (lunches, shopping dates, family dinners) this lifetime would allow us to share as mother and daughter. The realization that the number might be smaller than 10 or 20 or 100 suddenly jolted me. A wave of sorrow blanketed the rest of my day. Last weekend, I met a beautiful Greek woman, Nina, the mother of 4 little ones, whose own mother is slowly withering from Alzheimer’s. While she is physically alive, her vivacious spirit, her singing, her stylish attire, have all but disappeared. Nina told me how the family works together to bring love and dignity to the beautiful woman who ‘once was the center of their universe.’ Her riveting account of how her father applies make-up to help her mom feel ‘pretty’ reduced me to tears. Indeed, we grieve while our loved ones are still living, cherishing both the precious moments and memories they so generously gift us. This notion of ‘letting go’ is necessary, I suppose, but let’s face it – nothing could feel more unnatural or counter-intuitive. Perhaps sharing our grief out loud and confiding in friends can remind us we are not walking alone in this journey called life.