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I have a lot to be thankful for. My journey was sometimes challenging, but I am now in a place of relief and gratitude. No more IVs, invasive tests, tubes, chemo, bad news or choking. It is quite profound how life can bring us face-to-face with our fears in unexpected ways. In my younger years, I faced the problems with a sense of resilience and determination. Facing aging and illness introduced new challenges and changes in perspective. It is more difficult to think in long-term modes especially when confronted with health concerns. I was born and raised in Santa Clara before it became Silicon Valley. The 1950s was a time of great family experiences provided by my parents who truly wanted their children. Family life certainly evolved. My parents made a deliberate choice to provide stability and consistency for my brother and me by not moving around. Having the same friends and attending the same schools gave us a sense of continuity and security. The religious practices, such as attending church every Saturday and Sunday, and the emphasis on nightly prayers, reflected the significance of faith and community in my upbringing. Fish on Friday, fasting during Lent was always observed. My family had distinct traditions for observing both religious and secular aspects of Christmas and Easter, maintaining a separation between the two allowing us to honor both the religious significance of these holidays as well as the cultural and social traditions associated with them. My father was a Catholic and my mother was a Mormon. Mom gave up her religion to marry my dad. She made a significant sacrifice for the sake of family unity, choosing to set aside her own religious beliefs to support my father's Catholic faith and provide a consistent religious upbringing for my brother and me. Such decisions come with challenges, and her absence from certain religious events was noted but accepted. She found many other ways to bond with us. One of my first memories is my concern about my purpose in life when I was 4 years old. This is a precise memory. I know where I was standing in the house and that he and I were alone. That afternoon I had a birthday party and now everyone was gone and things were cleaned up. I asked my father what was I supposed to be doing with my life as God had not contacted me. He told me I was a child and should not be doing anything but being a child. But I persisted. Such questions worried my father. He knew I was serious, and he told me that until I heard from God, I was to help other people. Exploring questions of purpose has been a lifelong journey, shaped by experiences, research, relationships, and personal growth. I have a deep and enduring connection with my faith; believing that God has been a part of my life from the very beginning. The influence of my father and his example played a significant role in starting my spiritual journey. I believe one's relationship with God is deeply personal, and the timing or manner of one's conversion does not define the strength or authenticity of that connection. People's spiritual journeys are diverse and unique. My high school years during the dynamic 1960s were a time of significant social and cultural change. Rather than experiencing the prevailing counterculture of the time (Smoking, sniffing, drinking, and skipping school), I focused on avoiding these activities. I was always the teacher's pet and found myself as much involved with the teachers as with my peers. My search for the purpose of life during my teen years led me to explore broader societal and political issues, especially the potential for suppression and distortion of truth in both government and religion. If governments could suppress and distort truth, how does one know if religion does the same? And I wondered if there was more, then how can we find the truth if we are told we already have it? My father supported my desire for knowledge, allowing me the freedom to explore other religions despite the initial directive from our church. His encouragement to seek understanding beyond the confines of a single perspective demonstrated a respect for intellectual exploration and a recognition of the importance of personal agency in matters of faith. Engaging in my research and study, starting with different Christian denominations, gave me a more open-minded approach to spirituality. Exploring various interpretations and practices within Christianity helped to broaden my understanding of religious perspectives. My journey as a mother and wife during the 1970s was deeply meaningful. I found a profound sense of love and appreciation for my children. My religious thinking also expanded as I explored other religious teachings. I was committed to understanding different Christian perspectives and having an open-minded approach to faith. I wanted to explore a deeper understanding of the diversity within the Christian faith. This was also the decade of health crisis and the loss of babies. On one such occasion, I was in the hospital after being in seizures and being prepped for surgery. I was scared and told God I didn't know the truth yet. I did not know which religion was completely true. What would happen to me at death if I had not yet figured it out? Like Mulder and Scully from the X-Files, " I want to believe" and "the truth is out there" were paramount in my mind. Yet, a peace came over me that told me I did not have to know ALL the truth. What was important was that I WANTED to know the truth. It helped me believe that life was a journey where I had to accept the complexities of life and faith. The 1980s brought an abundance of religious dedication to church activities. Add all those Baptist doctrines to my already full plate of Catholicism. I did not replace ideas and rules; I just added to them. I did not blindly accept all I was taught, and I kept religion personal. I expanded my religious activities incorporating different teachings without necessarily replacing or fully accepting all of them. I was able to integrate aspects from various religious traditions while maintaining a sense of personal autonomy in my faith. I remember a wise friend advising me "Seek the truth; but if you find someone who believes they know ALL of the truth, run from him." His recognition that absolute certainty can be limiting and potentially dogmatic was a valuable perspective that increased my openness to diverse truths, acknowledging that people's beliefs and perspectives can vary widely. The 1990s brought work experience and a new love of friendships. Juggling work with family and church was both challenging and rewarding. The following decade saw a brain injury that knocked me on my butt for several years. The moment of impact was a fraction of a second when I realized my life was going to be drastically changed. I found myself up in the air watching people crowd around a body on the ground near the accident. Experiencing an out-of-body perspective caused my mind to find ways to cope with my inability to understand what had happened. This was not a near-death experience. I was not about to die. In the hospital, as I grappled with profound existential questions as well as too much pain for too long, a time and seeking spiritual support from both Catholic and Protestant perspectives, I requested a visit from both a priest and a minister. I asked for a button that I could push so I could pass away as well as a notarized statement from God saying this action was ok with Him. I did not get either. At one point, there were two well-dressed people in my room that no one else could see or hear. I refused to talk with them and I requested to change rooms. They spoke to each other but not to me. I now wish I had been more open to exploring the significance of my encounter. Perhaps if they were really there, they could have answered some important questions. Perhaps they were not there but my mind could have found answers if I had been open to the possibility. Years later the chemo and radiation made me drop to my knees thinking I could not stand the pain any longer. Yet compared to others, I had it easy. Volunteering for the police department provided me with invaluable insight into other parts of society. I was never in harm's way, and I learned how and why people react so quickly in unbearable situations. Nothing is black and white. The situations were complex. And again, there was more to learn from both sides of each situation. 46 years of marriage to Jim. I had the love of family, friends, and co-workers. I loved having my grandkids, helping my daughter and seeing my son doing what he loved to do. My life was not about having fun. It was about accomplishing things that make the world a better place. I have heard that at the end of life, people regret the things they did not do. There are a lot of things I did not do. But I concentrated on the things I knew I should and could do. I never lost sight of what my dad told me when I was four. I am so grateful to my parents who accepted their strait-laced little girl. And I am grateful for all the time they spent with me. That is one way we know we are loved – by how much time someone gives us. I am also grateful to my family and all the memories I have of things we did together. How special it was to help babies grow up – to be an influence on their lives. Responsibilities are also privileges. Some would say I helped too much but I always would err on the side of too much rather than not enough. I also had great friends throughout my life. Friends that kept in touch, that touched my heart and I hope I touched theirs also. People who knew me knew that I was flexible about other people's religion. I studied religion most of my life. And I am sure that no one has the whole truth. My beliefs exist because I studied and meditated and found what worked for me. But no matter how strongly I accepted something, it could not be to the exclusion of others' beliefs. Whatever religion or philosophy brings you comfort and helps you to cope with your life, I am happy for you. The appeal of most religions and spiritual systems is due to the assurance that we do, in fact, survive death and our experience may be better after death. Many people would disagree. We have choices. My advice is simple. Choose that which you believe is the truth but continue to search. Find a solution that helps you become a better person and gives you comfort in the unknown. Exclusivity in one's beliefs may be self-deceptive given the vastness and complexity of the spiritual realm. Beliefs and prayers are most impactful when they translate into tangible deeds that contribute to the well-being of others. To Jeff and Tracy, Alex and Briana, Jaiden, Trenten and Harlow, and Lacey, you know that I would have done anything for you. But there is a circle of life that I cannot change. To Jim, who I spent the majority of my life with, and who gave me beautiful children, I wish the best for you in the future. As you pass down info about me, please make me sound way funnier and better than I was. I have hope that someday we will be together again not because that is the only truth, but because it is an alternative that gives me comfort. The ideas have been passed down through generations in many forms but none of us really know. It never hurts to hope for good things. Know that I loved you to the fullest. The belief that you will remain in the hearts of those who knew and loved you is a poignant and comforting perspective on the idea of survival. The impact we have on others, the memories we create, and the love we share indeed become a part of our legacy. In that sense, a part of us continues to live on through the hearts and memories of those we touched. Love, laugh, lift each other up, find patience, and spend time with your loved ones or strangers. Focus on what we all have in common and not what separates us politically, religiously, racially, or from gender issues. When you gather for a holiday, assume I am listening. I can hear you reminiscing already, laughing as you remember that awful gagging sound, gasping for breath, the raspy voice that was so NOT pleasant. The same things that frustrated you about me might just be the things you miss the most. "What we once enjoyed and deeply loved we can never lose, for all that we love deeply becomes part of us." Helen Keller |