It is hard to believe she is gone. I am most present to this transition, from who she most recently was to who she is now. I have now watched three people close to me grow old and die, Mom, Norm and my father Freem. What strikes me about each of them is how in their later years they reduced life to what was most important, the love of those close to you. My life story for mom is here last weeks and months, where while she couldn’t hold much of a conversation, love and presence just poured out of her, seasoned with occasionally with her wit. It let us know she was very much still with us, which was the most important thing. Honestly, who cares who the prime minister is? In the end, does that really matter? What mattered was love. I remember, as many of us who saw her in her last months do, how she would take my hand and hold it tightly to her cheek. She clutched that hand like it was the world to her, closed her eyes and lost herself in the feeling of holding. When she did, I could feel the feeling of holding in my body, like mother and infant holding onto each other. Whatever the vagaries attachment I experience in my childhood, in our early years together in tumultuous 50’s and 60’s, the initiation into bondedness was fulfilled in hear later years. I know now that my hand is being held so tightly.