On the death of a friend's mother

I have now reached an age where it becomes more familiar to learn of the death of a friend's parent. In earlier years, it was less common; only accidents or critical illness robbed some far earlier than seemed fair.

Now, it is age that has become first an enemy, and then the thief. We accept the changes as our parents become less themselves, even as the memory of the former self lingers with us.

It is never easy to lose a loved one, yet it sometimes still seems right. We just hope for pleasant dreams as they slip quietly away during sleep.