It was the only thing I could think about when my older sister passed, but what could I do?My sister Mary (left) and me, copycat style on the front steps of our home

Getting older is the worst sort of elimination diet. People, places, food and god knows what else, are constantly being removed from my life — only at the end, I know that nothing will be returned to my plate.

At least that’s how I felt when my sister passed away.

Mary was two years older and I have thought a lot about her these last few months.

Truthfully, we were not super close. When we got together, it was therapeutic to dissect the parental dynamic in our home. She had a big laugh and we traded bittersweet memories.

A few years ago, we had lunch to talk about alternative living arrangements for our mother. We didn’t agree on much but the facts were clear. Our mother had started to wander out of the house and I was worried. Mom was in her late eighties and had been fiercely independent, still living in the home where we grew up.

We needed to act quickly — my father died over fifteen years earlier. His early onset dementia was a shock and we watched helplessly as Alzheimers claimed him.

Mary previously had been the one to provide primary assistance to Mom as she was not working. I pressed for a more full time solution as my sister was not dependable, disappearing for days at a time. Mom needed full-time care.

What was going on with my big sister?

I eventually had to proceed on my own and by that I mean: decide on an extended care facility; get a bridge loan to pay for it; sell our family home to pay back the loan with enough to finance the ongoing nursing care residence; apply for Veteran’s benefits because every little bit helped.

When Mary gave me Mom’s checkbook, things just did not add up. To clarify, I don’t mean that in a blame game way. The account was a confusing mess.

It was tough to get my sister’s attention to help sort out the house as we prepared to sell. How could I be losing them both?

Mary, Mom and me in the fresh air

When mom passed away, I was ready or as ready as you can be to lose a parent. It seemed consistent with the natural order of things. Mom was almost ninety-three, and had advanced cognitive decline and a host of physical ailments.

Shortly after that, Mary was diagnosed with Lewy body dementia. People often confuse it with Alzheimer's but patients with Lewy body suffer not only from memory issues but also visual hallucinations, motor symptoms and sleep behavior disorder.

As a family, we knew that something was wrong. But the finality of the diagnosis was crushing.

At the same time the elimination diet continued:

My husband lost a kidney to cancer. I googled “chances of recurrence” repeatedly on my phone.My job was “eliminated” but not really because someone took my place.My eldest daughter moved away and then my other daughter moved to Europe for a study abroad experience.We sold our home and downsized to condo living.

Chicken korma was out — so were deep squats and pickleball. While on a walk the other day, I saw someone using a cane. Ugh, I thought. I’d rather stay home.

Granted, some of these events were planned. Others were a function of time, bone density and just plain aging.

The truth about being next is that it’s unavoidable and can easily morph into a crushing self-absorbed weight about mortality. When I bring up life planning issues or moving to a place with no stairs, my daughters minimize. It’s natural. No one wants to talk about it.

For months after Mary’s funeral, when I couldn’t find my phone, or recall a name, a chill would stop me cold. Has it started?

But recently, something has clicked and it is definitely related to the fact that the world is not as I imagined it would be … not as I want it to be.

If I don’t change things, who will?

I am more determined than ever to keep my plate full by doing the following:

Connect with long lost friends.Reach out to those that could use my help; be generous, be of service, be of use to those in need.Begin writing that next book.Record moments of joy.Be grateful for the family I have and treat them as the most precious humans in my life.Experience new things and write about it.Travel, work out, swim, jog (slowly), bake, read, write and try to understand the world for as long as I am able.

Whenever I am successful at one of these tasks, I will celebrate and stay determined.

Too many things have slipped away. So much has been removed from my life whether I wanted it to or not. It’s time to banish the elimination diet forever. I cannot outrun the inevitable but I can create my own feast.

Anna Maria DiDio is an author whose memoir and adoption-themed children’s books and more can be found on her website: amdidio.com . Her latest book, Grace’s Write Time, is a middle grade chapter book about friendship and belonging.

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The ScaryTruth About Being Next was originally published in New Writers Welcome on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.