My mother celebrated her 83rd birthday just as she wanted: in the presence of her children, close friends and a plate of succulent crab legs.
Over her celebration weekend, we also took in a coffeehouse poet, enjoyed "Riverdance" and ate spicy chicken wings during Super Bowl Five-O.
And, because my brothers and I were together, and we sensed that the timing was good, we scheduled "the conversation."
I've written often about aging, counseling readers not to wait to ask the important questions of parents:
Where, and how, do you see yourself living when you can no longer live independently? Do you think it might be time to give up driving? How will we know if you fall? Are your will and health care directives up to date?
Then I broached the subject firsthand. Boy, was that tough.
Fortunately, my widowed and still healthy mom is a retired nursing school dean with a no-nonsense Midwestern sensibility from formative years spent in Iowa. I pulled out a napkin onto which we grown kids had scribbled questions. She was quick to answer many. She pushed back on a few. We laughed.
And I left my mother's house, 1,200 miles from my own, feeling relieved. My brothers and I aren't finished helping her manage the next chapter or two, but we cleared the highest hurdle — the simple, nerve-racking step of getting started.