As I was dying, anything left for me to make or do, any color of mind, any system or imagined thing, any freedom was reduced to honey seeping out of the ancient tree and licked so clean by the great bear I had nothing left to do but pass my life on. I was Gail the daughter, sister, woman, wife, mother, business leader, therapist, and always your friend, so that when you felt cursed you could know healing, and when you felt blessed, you knew, in my embrace, how essential your soul is to this world.

In my final days, I tried to talk as little as possible about my ailments. Instead, I asked you about your lives, what you were doing, what you needed. Once when Michael and I were alone in the hospital room, I told him I have always wondered why, whether while living or dying, we become so impolite to the people we love. Do we forget to transfer our leadership on? Isn’t it better to speak to our caregivers as if to God? I have a last wish for my successors: please be kind to the people you love.

As disease and pain medication forced my soul out of my body, I kept trying to say, “What a miracle it is that at our births eternity breathes into us a covenant of freedom; that we learn how to love, and thus, are never exiled.” We are born to make a self, then give it to those in need. Take mine now. With it, immerse yourself in your own way of devotion, so that each moment in your life–like your birth did before your mind even knew it–gives you a sense of always coming home, of beautiful reunion.

Now I give you my disease and my perfumes, my memories and hopes, my clothing and pets. I give you my children and husband, all my visions. I give you the mystery greater than thought we spend our lifetimes contemplating through action. I thank you for walking with me in the wilderness of mirrors our minds made together, which now I give back to you for safekeeping. I give you grateful love, the masterpiece we hold in our fragile hands. Take it from me now, and please, each in your own way, pass it on.