A friend died last night - Jayna G, with 31 years in recovery -  mentor, role model, and guide. People die. I know that. At age 13 or 63, 47, 8, or 96, people die.The piece of Jayna's passing that has had me and others stunned, is the speed from a questionable MRI-to-hospice-to-death in mere weeks. I, and many others, both in her family and her community, are bereft at the loss of our teacher and friend, mother, grandmother, wife.

What keeps coming to mind these past days as I grapple with accepting the unexpected, are questions about the unpredictability of life and of death. What if I was told that I had 2 weeks to live? How much on my "to-do" list would get done, or would get erased an unimportant? Who would I want to speak with, and how many of those are on my "I need to get around to calling..." list?

What am I hanging on to? Old resentments? Are there strained relationships that would benefit from my attention, either directly or through the inventory process? And what of my material possessions? What if, like those in Santa Rosa, I was told I had 15 minutes to evacuate before my neighborhood was incinerated? Besides the one cat that would actually get in the crate, what would we take? Passports? Old family photos? My box of past journals? Trinkets from my mom?

The baseline question is, what matters? What really matters? I was privileged to participate in a women's conference this weekend that focused intently on the 12 steps. What I heard, over and over, in different form and in different words, is that recovery matters. Our spiritual connection matters. Being of service matters. Bringing our best selves to our relationships matters. Expressing love matters.

Today I ask myself if I am holding on to insecurities that have become habit. Am I hampered by any residual limiting beliefs? If I had 2 weeks to live, would gratitude outweigh regrets? I don't want to live each day in fear of the "what if's," but I do want to go forward with a clear vision of what is truly important, aware that each day is precious. What I want is to nurture my relationships with friends and family. What I want it to remember Jayna's example of inner tranquility and activism as she worked for peace and for our Mother Earth.

This afternoon I envision Jayna flying high, like an eagle, or a great horned owl, free of the constraints of her dis-eased body. I am privileged to have know her, to have laughed and cried with her. Walk with the angels, dear Jayna, and feel all the love and the prayers coming your way.