Fading

This is my favorite coffee mug. I drink my morning coffee from it every day. I have had it for years and as you can see the colors are fading. The rim, for instance, used to be a bright blue.
Now it is barely a visible line.
Yet, I still use this cup despite the fact that I have larger, and now, prettier cups at my disposal.
Why?
Because it was given to me by a woman who was a friend, a mentor, a soul sister.
I say "was" but she is not dead. Not physically. She has Alzheimers disease and is lost to those of us who love her. She is only 6 months older than I am but she is no longer able to care for herself, no longer recognizes her husband.
This once brilliant woman with several degrees and certifications now just wanders the halls of the nursing home she inhabits.
She sat next to me during my husband's funeral Mass and held my hand when it trembled.
She helped me to explore my spirituality and was responsible for accelerating my progression.
We used to have wonderful breakfasts together and we talked about everything and anything.
And now, while she still "lives" it's as if she has died.

And so I grieve for what was.
I mourn what will no longer be.
This blog is about death and how it affects all of us and how my own journey has affected me.
And I choose to include my friend's diagnosis because it is truly a loss for me, as it for anyone who has a family member or friend with ALZ.
I am so grateful for the time I had with my friend. I look back on our time together and cherish all of it.
And I am once again reminded how life can change so quickly.
Whether it's a death or a death of sorts.
Like the once dark blue rim of this cup, life changes, life fades, and soon the life we know disappears.
So, I will continue to drink my morning coffee from my worn mug and thank God for the friendship I was blessed with.
And pray I never forget the lesson.
Namaste.