My mom died last night, after being diagnosed with lung cancer in December 2010. Below is the gist of an obituary my wife and I put together, but I want to comment for a second, actually, about dying.

She did it perfectly.

When doctors told her about two months ago that a spot on her lung had returned, they also told her there were no real options: an 83-pound, 83-year-old who fought through one 33-session round of radiation was no candidate for another, or even a biopsy. Too weak.

So as she began to fade, she called her friends, made her arrangements and invited my wife and my kids in so she could see their faces as she placed her best jewelry in their hands.

An incredible posse of friends and relatives kept filing in and calling, sharing memories, having a laugh and smiling at her demeanor -- and frankness.

"I'm fine with everything," she said.

Hospice of Southern Illinois and No Place Like Home handled her medication and hygiene, letting us concentrate on spending quality time.

In the final days, our neighbor, Eunice Anderson, held her head, rubbed her legs and sang hymns with her. So did her neighbors Marilyn and Larry Null.

Her pain was so minimal that staff was able to skip many of the every-four-hour Oxycodone medications, and we didn't touch the morphine until the final hour (and then it was just one dose).

Sure, my family and I are sad, but I gotta tell you: If I make it to 83 and go like she did, I will have no problem with that.

Here's part of her obit:

Violet Deloris Pierce Sortal passed away peacefully surrounded by family and friends at home on April 3, 2012.

She lived a ridiculously productive 83 years, and was grateful every single day on this earth. Her blessings included a loving husband, two children and three grandchildren; an ability to lift up every person she met and a wonderful network of friends who were her extended family.

Violet will be remembered always for her kindness, her deep faith, her thoughtfulness and love she showered on those around her, whether it was a Hallmark card, a quick visit or her cooking (including chocolate mousse pies, stuffed shells or red velvet cakes).

Her special interests were scrapbooking, swimming, needlework and ballroom dancing with her husband, Mike, the “best partner she could ever have,” she said. She read voraciously and loved words; her son Nick, credits her for developing writing abilities that led him to a career in journalism. Her pride and joy, Aaron, called her the “best grandma ever,” as she rode elephants and swam with the dolphins with him (as profiled in a story on Atlantis I wrote with her as the centerpiece).