Today I attended a Memorial Service. A dear friend lost her daughter to Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS). I did not have the privilege of meeting her daughter and that was my loss. Listening to her friends and family share memories of her, I recognized she was a remarkable woman. She was adventurous, spirited, full of fun and in love with the California wilderness and the plants that grew there. Her departure from this world was a huge loss to her family and friends.

They had to stand by and watch the gradual decline of her physical abilities, knowing the only thing they could do was provide care and helping hands. I grieve for them silently because after seventy-six years I have never found the right words with grace. The ritual words: “my condolences” and “I am so sorry for your loss” feel hollow. But as I am not gifted with words that offer real comfort, and some ease from sorrow I fall back on the hollow words because that is what the ritual words are for: an expression of caring when are at a loss for real words,