There is a point in the grieving process when you can run away from memories or walk straight toward them.

You gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run.

Oldtimers, weekends, and airplane landings are alike. If you can walk away from them, they're successful.

I often imagine what it would be like if my father were still here to mark his 100th birthday, if Alzheimer's hadn't clawed away years, possibilities, hopes. What would he think of all the commemorations and celebrations?

It's not really a grieving process. I don't know what to call it,

I'm part of the tribe who have said goodbye to one parent and are feeling a sense of responsibility for the one who remains - in my case, my mother. How do I make her time smoother, happier? How do I try to ease her, a widow, away from the dark well of grief without dishonoring the necessity of that grief?