There is nothing scarier than the first time you see the weakness in your rock, the frailty of your human pillar. The mortal state looks lighter and too thin. The choices become yours and you desperately and fleetingly beg your mind to recall the instruction manual you need to believe you've been subconsciously writing all your life. There had been contridiction between instruction and action- but not much. It always felt clear what she meant. You wonder passively if when she moves on, her voice- no, her standards- will still live on the ground floor of your heart. Holding all you've done up in a billowing skyscraper of "stuff".