Visiting her at the nursing home we talked about how difficult it is for her to adjust to her new life. Rules and roommates, the shared bathroom, the shower room down the hall.

“Sounds like you’re back in college and living in a dorm.” I laughed. “You just need to find some boys and a keg of beer and you’re good to go.”

She laughed too, but then her smile faded.

“It’s hard” she said. “There’s so much to learn here and that’s not easy when you’re a hundred and one!”

“You can do it,” I replied. “And I expect by next week you’ll be learning Italian.”

She laughed again. And then she said it. “Change is hard.”

I nodded in agreement. Yes, it certainly is.

Her bird, Charlie, aka Buddy, died this week, while in the care of a friend back at the apartment building. Maybe he died of a broken heart. Maybe he just got old. Regardless, it is another loss for her to absorb.

Loss after loss. She is strong, has been for 101 years. But this is a lot, would be a lot for anyone.

She says it best. “It’s hell to get old.”