My wife Mary and I were asked to accompany a ninety-five year old woman on her last journey in life. We were not related to her by blood, but Mary was her daughter-in-law for twenty eight years, before divorce separated them. Everyone in the family called this woman Nanny, and she was a tiny whirl of intellect and activity. She began to lose her mind in the end, slowly, and was no longer safe in her own home. It was odd, and a bit complicated, but she asked if we would be willing to move into her home and hold her while she made this final transition. To anyone outside our inner world, we referred to her simply, as Mary's mom, which in so many ways, she certainly was. Nanny was also the owner of a "camp" on an idyllic pond in the mountains of western Maine. Her husband's grandfather built the thing in 1901, and named it Morning Glory. One summer, Mary brought me from Sedona, Arizona, where we met and married, and introduced me to these healing waters. A year later we moved across country and were residents in this camp. I was encouraged, by both Mary and Nanny, to sit on the porch and contemplate a sublime vista. I asked Henry David Thoreau to accompany me on saunters around these waters, and to tell me of his Walden Pond, and about life, and about death as it turned out. The solitude on Morning Glory's porch, in the middle of Nowhere, Maine, inspired reflection and meditation, that often transported me into transcendent realms. I listened to Rumi and Maurice Nicole and Erich Fromm; I listened to loons and eagles and whispers in the wind. And finally, Mary and I were granted a most precious gift - the invitation to be present at a good death. Nanny shared her camp on that mystical mountain pond with us; she shared her home and intimate details of a long and active life; she shared her desire that she wanted to stay in that home, until the end. We were able to navigate, sometimes through crushing shoals, our fears and inadequacies, until that final, peace filled last breath of this great, grand dam. We would never have thought to put this experience onto our map of life, but when we reached that destination with Nan, we cannot imagine having missed the trip. It is a great honor to be asked to accompany one on their final voyage; there is so much to learn; there is so much love that seeps into the soul.