The  young man knelt on the roof of his house, scooping rotting leaves from the gutters, and watching the skies as a red-tailed hawk soared by. He was passionate about reading and gardening and hiking and birds. Fate stole his eyes and his strength and he spent the rest of his days being guided around gripping a walker and having others find his food, his clothes and the toilet for him.

A woman created beautiful historic dresses with intricate sewing by following pictures in history books from the library, and she dressed dolls in these magnificent fashions. She told wonderfully detailed stories about the past and the present and found a way to relate to everyone she met. Fate removed the dexterity from her hands and erased many of her memories, first the most recent, and then the ones from long ago, leaving only tiny remnants. She too, spent her time in an institution, mostly lying in bed, not always recognizing her visitors. 

The oldest daughter watched their struggles over the decades, and waited to see what precious things Fate would steal from her. She discovered the start of Fate’s work in her diagnosis and knew that she was also destined to experience suffering and loss.

One day, a realization came to her. She couldn’t control Fate, any more than the man or the woman had. She now knew that no amount of exercise or vegetables or mindfulness would significantly change her path or ending. She could, however, choose joy instead of sorrow. Courage instead of fear. And, importantly, she could choose to believe that the here and now is not the beginning of the end. It is simply part of the road that we all must travel to find that Place that exists beyond the reach of Fate.