Even before the day of our wedding, Diane insisted on calling me her daughter. I got the feeling quickly that I was invited into a role that she had longed to have filled for quite some time. She treated me as such from day one. I remember on my very first visit to meet Diane she allowed me to accompany her and Will as we put their beloved Elliott (the dog) down. Invited into the privacy of that delicate moment. Months later, she would invite me in, as we tried on "Mother of the Groom" dresses for our wedding. Bumping into one another in the squeezed dressing room, giggling like school girls as she tried on some. Later being invited in would look like caring for her in those private moments, that no one really wants help with, as the disease continued to progress. Always without an ounce of shame to show.
Diane was never too prideful to invite another in. Into her home, into her life, into her heart. I whispered in her ear over and over again those final days in the hospital, "thank you for welcoming me in with eager open arms as your daughter." What a gift.
