My mother, Lea Levy, passed away seven months ago — on March 14, 2012. I flew in for her funeral, with my husband and daughter by my side. The “Unveiling” of her monument took place this past Sunday in Toronto. I wanted to be there, but could not attend due to my current health circumstances. And even though my daughter went, my heart ached for closure. So I called my Dad. Had a good cry. And then he said, “Focus on the good memories you have of her.” Here is one of those memories: A couple days before my mom died, we were chatting on the phone. She asked me about my day, so I told her I had spent the morning with artist Shaney Jo Darden, and she had created a one-of-a-kind plaster sculpture of my torso. The Treasured Chest. My mother listened intently, but the fog of cancer and pain-killers was so thick, in the end she said, “I don’t understand exactly what you did, but whatever it is, I want to do it too. When is it my turn?” And that is who my mother was; that is how my mother lived. Do it all, do it now.