All of my kids are special, each in their own way and one of the most beautifully sad events I’ve ever witnessed was my daughter, Elon, when her mom died. Elon and her sister Audrey put their lives on hold to see her mom through the last stages of Stacey’s cancer. They watched and cared for her for the last year, their mom eaten by the cancer and the chemicals, and dying a slow death. The grace was Elon stayed in her mom’s house and cared for her, taking breaks to keep her business rolling while Audrey and others came to help.

One morning, Elon called me. She usually texts, so I knew it was important, and when I answered, she said, “She’s gone.” It was like my lungs and core deflated in an instant as the realization sank in that my ex-wife had died, and that my kids had lost their mom. Elon wasn’t bawling. She sounded resigned with a tear and a sniffle, and a faint whiff of relief that the pain was in the past now for her mom. She wanted me to come and be by her.

I went to be by her side and we were joined by Audrey and Stacey’s sister, Marcia to wait for the folks to come and take the husk that was my beautiful one-time love away. As I looked at her emaciated body and face, I could still imagine the glow that attracted me almost forty years gone.

I marveled that Elon had been there and witnessed her mom’s last breath. She knew it was near. I suppose she could feel it and hear it. She watched and listened in the dark early hours and witnessed the final slow rattling breath as she passed. I have witnessed death, but not like that. My witness was of an accident victim who passed quickly, presumably healthy before the crash. Elon saw the vestiges of life as they ebbed to finality after a long road of pain and despair. I was astonished at the power of that.

The aftermath of her death showed me that my oldest kid had the stamina and greatness to survive and march still onward with her life’s tasks with strength and grace. She and Audrey journeyed through the steps required in our age of living; the arrangements, the notifications, the squabbles over the crap we inevitably accumulate, and the sadness. And they came out the other side with a new story and chapter to continue.

It is strange to see your kids as adults. I remember and see my kids as little kids, running, playing, learning to talk and learning to swim. To watch them as adults is surprising to me. I’m fortunate to have four wonderful humans I can count as my rocks in my life.

And in the same turn, I marvel at how Elon is stronger and seemingly eager to take her position as the matriarch of the family. She cares for everyone in her life, her partners, employees, her sister, her niece, her family, and her friends. She is a rock. I can tell from her conversation that she has learned more than most. She has adapted her values to her life completely and grown into a wonderful human from the beautiful child she was many years ago. The time passes so quickly.