Gloria started to get better for a few weeks in hospice care. She was on oxygen and bed-ridden, but enjoyed reading and company, and Amazon's Alexa, which she could still command to answer questions or change the music. After a few weeks of improvement, she suddenly took a rapid turn for the worse and died within a matter of days. It left the family stunned. We thought we were ready and had been preparing for the end. But as it turns out, you're never ready. Gloria's youngest son Brian, sits at the kitchen table minutes after Gloria passed.

Hospice care is a remarkable service. While hospitals focus on curing, even when it's no longer a legitimate option, hospice cares only about comfort. It is clearly the best way to die, attended to by gentle, generous aides and nurses who help you avoid pain and let you die with dignity.

Gloria entertained company and visitors until the last few days. Modesty tends to evaporate when you are at death's door. One day, suffering from a hot spell, she asked that her clothes be removed and that she have a bowl of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. She lay in bed, revealing her bare chest and one remaining breast, the other removed when Gloria had cancer a few years earlier. At the foot of the bed friends and family were gathered and carried on the conversation as if nothing were different.

Gloria had had a mastectomy, so her blood pressure could only be taken on her opposite side. A sign hung over her bed as a reminder.

Comfort drugs, including morphine, are an essential part of hospice. They are designed to help with breathing, reduce anxiety, and relieve pain. Hospice nurses train the family and others who attend to the dying in how and when to administer and track the medications.

Gloria had lots of paid caregivers beyond hospice as she had been housebound for a while. But her caregivers became friends. Gloria played Scrabble with some, listened to music with others, and shared long conversations about life, love and family with all of them. Theresa, from Peru, gave Gloria foot massages with her knowledge of reflexology. Theresa had grown quite attached to Gloria and was devastated at her passing.

Too often we don't talk about death and plans and what a parent or loved one wants at this important life stage. But Gloria and her family were very open about it. She had a proxy, clear instructions about not resuscitating, and specific plans for her funeral, including readings and prayers. In fact, Gloria had pre-paid for the entire funeral so as not to burden her family.

It was only a few hours after she passed that the funeral home arrived to remove the body. The day had been a busy one. The family knew that she was near the end, unresponsive and breathing the "death rattle." But Gloria waited until we were all there, by her side, holding her hand, able to whisper in her ear that it was OK to go. She had retained her sense of humor until the very end. Only 24 hours before, my brother had asked her if she were comfortable. Without even opening her eyes, she muttered, "I make a nice living."

Gloria was Jewish. In the Jewish religion you are buried with no material possessions, wrapped in a simple shroud that has no zippers or pockets. You leave the world as you came into it. With nothing. It is a way of saying we are all equal. When the funeral home removed Gloria's body, the undertakers left behind the rings, earrings and watch she had been wearing.

Death comes with lots of responsibilities. There are plans to implement, eulogies to write, relatives to alert. In the Jewish religion the body has to be buried quickly, usually within 24 or 48 hours, which adds to the stress. Two of Gloria's sons, Brian (l) and Scott, joined me at the funeral home only a day after Gloria passed to finalize the next day's service and schedule of events.

Gloria had pages of notes and stories and memories. Some of it was her own need to recall her life. But more importantly she wanted to make sure her story lived on, shared with children and grandchildren, and eventually their children. Her parents had immigrated from Russia to pursue the American Dream. Gloria grew up in the Jewish ghettos of Dorchester and Mattapan, outside of Boston. Born at the beginning of The Depression, she was raised to believe in tzedakah, the moral obligation to be charitable, a responsibility she learned from her Mom. Later, she became a civic leader – president of everything from local women’s organizations, to Hadassah, to her town library. All of her stories and memories were recorded in a series of notebooks. Eventually this project, old family images and some of her writing will become a book.

Family meant more to Gloria than anything. Her parents taught her how to parent, how to be charitable and how to keep family together through good times and bad. This photograph, displayed in the living room, shows Gloria, her sister and her parents in the 1930s. Life goes by fast.

It was important to me that Gloria be present at her service. I decorated the funeral home with photographs, produced a quick video for the lobby flat screen, and, perhaps driven by some strange force that keeps us going through the first days of loss, got up at 4:00 am to design cards in honor of Gloria for mourners to take with them after the service.

Family, friends, caregivers, children, grandchildren came to say good-bye.

Evan, one of four grandsons and seven grandchildren, comforts his Dad Scott at the service. Evan had lived in Gloria's home and had helped care for her during her last months.

Grandsons and granddaughters' boyfriends served as pallbearers, gently placing the simple wooden casket into the hearse before leaving for the cemetery.

Jewish families sit shiva after a loved one passes. It's a time not only to mourn the loss but to celebrate the life, to share stories and memories and to comfort one another. Two of Gloria's grandchildren, Evan and Arielle, had been living in Gloria's home with her for the last year, taking turns with chores, shopping and even some personal care. It's rare these days that families are this close across generations. Here they laugh with their Mom, Lori.

Gloria's bedroom one day after she passed. Health care costs at work. It is only a matter of 24 hours before hospice, paid for by Medicare, arrives to remove the hospital bed and the oxygen tanks. A few days earlier, Gloria, family, friends and dogs filled this room with noise and conversation and love. It doesn't take long for the physical manifestations of life to disappear.

A week before she died, Gloria was still happy. "Alexa, play 'O What a Beautiful Morning," and Gloria belted out the lyrics. She was never afraid of dying. She was 87 and had lived a full life, experiencing art, music, love, marriage, children, tragedy, heartbreak, bankruptcy, divorce, welfare, love again, marriage again, career, travel, grandchildren, pets, friends, cancer, heart disease, hospice, and finally peace. In the 64 years that I knew her as my Mom, I never once heard her say an unkind word about anyone. She gave constantly -- of her love, her money (despite having very little), her talent, her company, her wisdom. She mentored dozens of young women, raised thousands of dollars for charity, led numerous local organizations, gave tirelessly to her community, and regularly sent beautifully hand-written birthday, anniversary, holiday, get well and thank you cards any time they were called for. She loved us and taught us how to love. All lives should be so well lived.