It's the place where my mother lived, the place where my mother died, and the place where I learned to live again.
Until my mother was diagnosed with brain cancer, very little living had ever gone on in my living room. She changed all that.
Now, in her absence, it is the place where I write. I sit at her desk, in her chair, and look out the big picture window she loved so much. Sometimes, I even see the little red bird that often came pecking at the glass when my mother was still alive.
The living room is where my book of the same title begins and ends. It is the place where I was inspired to share my mother's story, my story, and the story of every adult child who has ever had the privilege of ushering a parent out of this world into the next with dignity and grace.