I was in a local nursing home last night to visit my mother-in-law. It was hot and there was a scent in the air. Not necessarily a bad smell, just an odor that hung heavy in the hallway. There were three ladies in the lounge playing cards and one elderly man sleeping in front of the television. There were flowers and pleasant furnishings but there was a loneliness that hung thick around me.

I went into her room and found her sleeping sitting upright in her chair. She has changed a lot in the last two years. The light is fading from her eyes and her laughter comes less often. She complains about the food every time we visit, especially the pea soup.

She has had five roommates and been in two different rooms in a year. Several of her roommates have gone home. A few went home to God. She can't see very well now and she is getting a hearing aid. She is always cold no matter how many sweaters or blankets she has on even in the heat of summer.

It's hard for my husband, an only child who has had to make so many difficult decisions concerning her care without anyone else to help. After a year of being told she only has a few months to live, dealing with her refusal to go through more medical procedures, listening to the complaints about grumpy neighbors, too much pea soup and the loneliness, he is tired.

He hates the nursing home. Not because of the people there or the care she's given but because it is the last place he will see his mother. These are the final memories he will keep in his heart of the mother he loves dearly.

I was lucky in a way, both of my parents died suddenly. I am not an only child. I had four brothers to help with decisions of what to do and how to do it. We had each other to hold onto and could cry together. We shared our parents and we shared our memories and laughter. Only children don't have that luxury. They have to do it alone. I can only offer my support and love, but it is not the same as having siblings who shared the love and the frustrations of growing up with the same set of parents.

I think Rose Nylon, a character on the 80's sitcom "The Golden Girls," had the best idea. She told her friends Dorothy and Blanche that "There shouldn't be heart attacks or old age. There should just be a time when you turn your life in, like a library book."

I like that idea. You go back on the shelf, no prolonged suffering or pain. When you reach a certain point in life you just go. It's quiet and warm in the library and you can finally rest. Your friends and family can say goodbye knowing there is no suffering or pain attached to your going. They know they will see you again. No chance of seeing the light fade from the eyes or body failing. You just walk quietly into the light and those left behind know you are happy, and warm and never have to eat pea soup again.