We sit around the large round table off to the side in the memory unit or “Gardens Pavilion.”  Dad, me, hospice nurse Karen, and death doulah/friend Jane.

Mom is barely awake at the moment and is weak and thin. She does not appear to be uncomfortable. In fact, last night, Jane met her for the first time as Mom shifted in her bed in a semi-sleep state.  Jane, who has accompanied many people on their crossing the “threshold” as she calls it, kneels on the floor so she can get close to mom.  She rubs calendula cream on her elbow, red from friction with the sheet. She takes her time, slowly watching Mom’s movements and her facial expressions.  Mom smiles momentarily, looks pensive, then asleep.