I was in California when I got the call. “Come now. Auntie Anne is in the hospital.” This was my 95-year-old great aunt who was childless. Throughout my life I felt loved by Auntie Anne. We shared a close bond.

 Auntie Anne had often talked to me in her later years about her fear of dying alone. As her memory faded with age, she continued to voice this fear. I always assured her that I was only a phone call away and I would be there in reality a phone call and a five-hour drive. But at some level I felt that this wasn’t a false assurance, but part of the journey that would unfold someday.

 So there I was when the phone call came: in California, further away than if I was home. My heart beat fast; my mind went blank; I hung up on the airline reservationist in mid-scheduling because I could not hold back the tears any longer. I was paralyzed.

 In the midst of this confusion, I went outside and started talking to Auntie Anne. “Wait for me. I will be with you.” The peace and clarity that surrounded me were pure gift.

 Ten hours later, I was at her bedside. From midnight to dawn it was just she and I, vigiling through the night, awaiting and preparing for the next part of her journey. I held her hand, recalled family stories, enjoyed sitting in her presence, and dozed off and on.

 This life of an amazing woman, a daughter of pioneers, an artist, a businesswoman and cattle rancher had come to this simple end as the breath of life eased out of her body. The afternoon of that day, Auntie Anne died in my arms. My assurance to her from many years before had come to fruition. It was not necessarily of my doing, but was the gift of grace and the act of following my intuition.

The last hours of Auntie Anne’s life were a symbol of our relationship. Somehow, both of us knew we were connected at a deep level. She had exactly 50 years on me. She was my lead: she turned 70, I turned 20; she turned 80, I turned 30; she turned 90, I turned 40; she turned 95, I turned 45. And in her death I realize ever more deeply our kindred spirits. To walk in the steps of this woman is a treasure for me, and will continue to be a grounding touchstone for my life.

–Shannon