Another lazy old-woman day. Even took a nap. Right now I am enjoying the sound of rain.
That’s a big one. It means I can still hear.
That’s old age for you. It sharpens the focus on what actually matters.
It should come as no surprise: people die here at The Asylum. Sixteen already this year.
In late February, a very interesting 97-year-old woman got dressed, put on her makeup, and lay down for a short rest before going out to lunch with her family.
She did not wake up. We were all happy for her. She became our model for a “good” death.
Then last week, during a birthday celebration in the main dining room, a resident in his late 90s died.
It wasn’t free wine night. He hadn’t had his dessert yet. But his passing was remarkably uneventful.
The party continued. We had our dessert.
We live with daily reminders.
Nobody is promised tomorrow.
And that’s OK.
Like seeing your own DNR on the door every time you leave your apartment.
It isn’t depressing.
It’s life.
And it’s Happy Hour today.