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I was in the middle of moving/unpacking 1 husband, 2 kids, 1 dog and 9+ years of stuff last May (2013) when I got the news: the mother I lost to mental illness 32 years prior had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. I hadn’t seen her in 26 years, but knew in that moment that I needed to go see her one last time. As I was making flight arrangements, we had a flood/sewer back-up in our new basement. The next week our electric panel caught fire.   All I could do was just breathe. Cry. Talk. Sleep. Ask for help. Honor what my mind, body and spirit needed so I could heal, and learn the lessons I needed. And eventually get back to dealing with the rest.   I made it in time to say goodbye. She passed away the day after I left.  This is what I read at her service. —- Dear Mom ...