For the last four years of my mother’s life, she did not know my name.Dementia slowly took many things from her. Memories faded, and conversations became shorter if we had them at all. At first, that loss hurts. You realize the person who once knew everything about you can no longer remember something so simple.But over time, you learn that memory is not the only place love lives.

One of the reasons I have written my Friday with Fred blog, every week, for over 20 years is the feedback it sometimes engenders, in the form of Comments, be they written or face to face. The best occurs when I am introduced to someone and they recognize me and say "I read your blog."This is so exciting to me, worth its weight in gold!Written comments are great too and they offer the opportunity for me to respond and further the conversation.  

At yesterday’s meeting of NewYork Health and Longevity, Fred was asked how he was doing. His response…”Everyone has something” brought to mind something I heard a long time ago.Everyone has an “Achilles Heel”.In Greek mythology, Achilles was dipped in the River Styx to render him immortal. But his mother held him by the heel leaving him vulnerable in that spot. The immortal Achilles was killed by a poison arrow to the heel.Hence the term “Achilles Heel” - a weakness or vulnerability that can lead to downfall.Everyone has one. 

Friends are the people you know you can count on to have your back when the cream cheese hits the mix -master. They are the people you want in the foxhole with you and the ones who pull you back when you get to the proverbial ledge. It occurred to me how difficult it can be sometimes to be that friend when someone you care about is doing something you don’t think is a good idea. Sharing an honest opinion can be risky.

Have you ever thought about what happens in silence? The conversation takes a pause (or a breath so to speak) and we scramble to fill it. Imagine you are alone in a room with no music, no phone to scroll, no television – you get the idea.Is silence a bad thing? I don’t think so. Silence isn’t the enemy. I would venture to say that if two good friends are together, a quiet moment actually speaks volumes.  And a quiet moment alone -- device free --  can turn into an important time of reflection.

I recently realized that, that the foods I eat on an almost daily basis,  are heavily influenced by foods of other cultures.   Open almost any kitchen cabinet or refrigerator in the U.S. and you’ll find ingredients that once felt “foreign” but are now everyday staples. Soy sauce, olive oil, tortillas, balsamic vinegar, and sriracha have crossed borders and become part of how many of us cook weekday meals. 

A week ago yesterday, the music blogger and podcaster, who Friday’s blogger calls his muse, wrote a piece about of one of my fave musicians and singer-songwriters; it inspired my most recent playlist.  

When my mother passed yesterday in the shared room at the assisted living center, the world did not stop. The hallway lights were still on, the aides still walked around helping people, and life moved on in its ordinary rhythm. Yet sitting beside her bed, holding a hand that had held mine through every season, I felt the weight of all the ordinary days I had taken for granted. The table by the window with ginger ale and toast when I was sick, her furrowed brow when I did something wrong (which was quite often), and the gentle sounds she made that had always meant she was still here.