See, my mom died recently; well, it’s almost a year now.  She went to Heaven on May 17, 2007.  I really can’t believe it, even though I watched her through the dying process.  It’s like, other people’s moms die, not mine.  My mom and I talk about things like that, we don’t actually experience those losses.  Of course, I don’t honestly mean to imply that I am above losing a loved one to death.  In fact, I’d always, always worried about it.  But when it finally came to pass for me, when it became obvious that she was not going to get well but in fact, would die, I felt oddly…accepting about it all.  I did not anticipate that I would have endured her dying in the way that I did.  I wonder if it’s because I was no longer young; I turned 50 just a few days before she left us.  For sure, I did not think she would die at the tender age of 74, I really thought she had many years left in her.  Our relationship was still very much mother-daughter, complete with her telling me what-for if she felt like it and me feeling all offended by it.  It hadn’t yet shifted to my becoming concerned about her and gradually becoming a caregiving daughter as happens when one’s parents age.