Hi Barbara, hello and love
It’s raining in Los Angeles. I’m sitting in a light filled corner. I leave in 3 days with a lot of wishes, plans and ideas in my pockets.

I think of you often.

How did I help my grandmother die? I washed her, turned her, comforted her, played her favorite music, held her hand, and dripped morphine under her tongue. As she had aged she had often said to my mother and I “you know when the time comes I’m going to need your help” and “I’m counting on you.” We had access to the morphine because in the final days I was picking her up to move her into a hospital bed that we had gotten for her apartment and when I lifted her the final time her rib cracked.
I can’t say too much about this, it’s something to discuss rather than report on, also because it is a gray area.
My mother and her best friend are both nurses who have long worked in nursing homes and volunteered for hospice, so they know how to wash and care for people.
Do you want to skype? Should I talk with F? Do you need assistance, or do you have everything in place?

Apparently it’s in my astrology to be present at transitions—births and deaths. I have one week of death doula training, but a lifetime experience of being close with death.

How are you? How is your body feeling? Your mind?

I am sending love to you.
I am deeply honored to be in conversation with you.
Every