I sway with gratitude while reading an email from a client about her dying parent. The profound intimacy that is shared with me can sometimes feel like a gift given without the giver realizing it is a gift. I hope to care for it well with honesty and empathy. I share her feelings, patiently letting them wash over me. I am reminded of my own father's passing. I let memory join emotion. My father's last words were "Ta da". What more is there to say?