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My mother is back at her house, making the hard journey to what she calls her "heavenly home." My brothers and my sister and some of their families were with her this weekend, saying their goodbyes and providing comfort to both Mom and each other. At times it was a full house.

My father died in a small room in a nursing home, just big enough to house his family who gathered by his side to keep vigil. My mother is dying at home, providing not only herself but her family the comforts of a well-known and well-loved place in this time of great change and sadness. While the profound takes place in my mother's bedroom, the ordinary events of daily life take place throughout the rest of the house as we move in and out of the world of the dying and the living.