With a heavy heart and deep gratitude, I share that my beloved husband, Norman, peacefully passed away on April 11, 2026, of natural causes. For many months, he was held in a very special place where a handful of angelic caregivers provided daily compassion, tenderness, and skilled attention. Though he was unable to travel last year to stay with me in the home I am remodeling in Bothell, WA, we remained closely connected: I spoke to him each day through distant healing and quiet loving presence. Last week, he gently told me he was ready to ascend. The staff at Summer Dreams reassured me he was comfortable and well cared for; they were surprised, as I was, that after his breakfast around 11:00 AM, he slipped away in his sleep.
Norman was a private man who carried dignity in all things. Over the years, he faced many medical challenges—Dementia, Parkinson’s, sundowning, and other conditions—but he was never defined only by illness. He was defined by his heart, his quiet strength, and the small, steady ways he loved. I promised him several years ago that I would ensure he had the best care possible and that I would manage his needs; that promise was kept, and for that I am grateful. The care Norman received at Summer Dreams and the kindness shown by everyone who surrounded him in recent days brought him peace and made his final months gentle.
I want to thank from the bottom of my heart the staff at Summer Dreams and everyone who helped and comforted Norman: the nurses, aides, therapists, administrators, volunteers, friends, and family who visited, called, and held him in thought and prayer. Your patience, expertise, and compassion gave him dignity and safety when he needed it most. To our few close friends and our family: your support, memories, visits, and quiet presence have been a lifeline. Thank you for honoring his privacy while also honoring his life.
Norman will be profoundly missed by our family and by the few treasured friends who knew him well. He loved quietly and deeply; he appreciated simple pleasures, steady routines, and the company of those who truly listened. Though his body grew frail, his spirit remained connected to those he loved. I take comfort in knowing that his journey did not end in fear or confusion but in a peaceful transition. He is now free to reunite with the lifetime friends and family who have gone before him, to reconnect with the laughter, stories, and love that shaped him.
One thing I always told Norman — and I want to share now — is that he need not worry about hell; hell is here on earth. Heaven is within each of us to obtain. I believe with all my heart that Norman is now in heaven: in a place of light, rest, and loving reunion. I miss him more than words can say, yet I feel his presence still in small moments: the quiet of the morning, the echo of a remembered joke, the gentle peace that comes after grief.
If you would like to honor Norman’s memory, please hold those you love a little closer, offer kindness where you can, and consider acts of service or donations to organizations that support those living with dementia and Parkinson’s. Share a memory of him with our family if you knew him—stories and small remembrances bring comfort. Since Norman had requested that no services would be needed. I’m including a Prayer, just for Norman.
Parting Prayer for Norman
Heavenly Light, we give thanks for Norman’s life—his quiet strength, his gentle love, and the care that surrounded him in his final days. May his spirit be welcomed into peace and joy. May he be embraced by the family and friends who have gone before, freed from pain and fear, resting in love. Comfort those who grieve; soften our hearts and steady our steps. Remind us that heaven lives within us through acts of compassion, patience, and presence. Let Norman’s memory inspire kindness and care in our lives. Amen.
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