On Tuesday, February 11th, Joan slipped away quietly, her son Sean by her side. She had been like a second mother to me for more than 30 years, and though separated by 3,500 miles and the wall of Alzheimer’s disease, I thought of her often and stayed in touch with cards and small packages. Just a few hours before she died, I had been at the post office, mailing her a Valentine’s Day card. In it I had written about the lovely views from the windows of the memory care unit she called home, hoping she was enjoying the recent snowfall that had blanketed the Seattle area. I had spent quite a bit of time with her in memory care before moving away from Washington, and could imagine her looking out of the windows.