Shya Chittaley, the woman I stayed with when I was in Cleveland last year getting my headaches treated, whose mad skillz at yoga left me gaping at her, has passed on. She died on March 31 and the cremation is today. She was 97.
It was a life well-lived. She married, had two children and had two careers, one of them as an internationally recognized paleobotanist (that’s the study of fossilized plants). She didn’t retire till she was 95 and lived independently till she was 96. I hope I have an old age like she did.