The eight days of last week were pretty long.  If you saw the last "Hey,God? Yes, Charles." post, you know that a dear friend, Bettye, whosefingerprints are all over the book, died Saturday a week ago. Another blogback in December describes Aunt Shirley and me in the emergency room where Iworried about her while she worried about pants. She died this pastSaturday.Each of these women, both widowed before I was, influenced my life inprofound and different ways over the years. Bettye was diagnosed with cancerabout two years ago. She fought it hard, with grace and grit all the way,providing inspiration and exhibiting courage. By all accounts, she kept thefaith, and her faith, but never gave up, never accepted the word terminal.She was ready for another day and another day.Around the time Bettye was getting her diagnosis, we learned that AuntShirley had a serious heart condition. In the past two years, new docs anddrugs invaded her life. That trip to the ER on December 9 turned out to be apoint of no return and the first of six moves over the next five weekstrying to get her in the right place for the best medical care. Finally, asher condition continued to worsen, she told us all, "I'm done." No more bagson poles. No more meds. No more procedures. So we removed the poles and themeds except for comfort drugs and we stopped all the procedures.  Thanks toa different kind of courage, she was able to rest, float in and out withoutpain, and enjoy visitors the last days of her life. At one point she lookedup and said, "I see you." Aunt Shirley lived on her own terms. Now she wasready spiritually, mentally, and physically to die on them too. And so, onSaturday, she did.We've always been taught that there is a right way to live. Two grande damesjust taught me that, for them, there is also no wrong way to die.