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I knew Kansas wasn't going to be an easy trip. We were there to say goodbye to Betty's baby brother, Dickie, who's in the final stages of lung cancer. We'd been in Kansas back in August but Betty wasn't sleeping and I knew we had to make one more trip to Fall River.

Dickie is a wonderful man and when he calls me "baby girl" I melt, which takes me by surprise because I don't usually go for that kind of thing. But Dickie is so sincere and so loving that it makes me glow. He literally built their ranch with his own hands and the help of one friend. In Betty's own words, "it's a work of art" thanks to the design skills of his wife Barbara. Their place just feels like home.

Betty was on edge while we were in Wichita for several days before heading out to Dickie's. I think it's hard to be the last one standing...the last person living in your immediate family. I remember how hard it was for my grandmother to outlive her husband, cousins, and sister. My role was to distract Betty with laughter, listen to her angst, and smooth over any rough edges.

There are several moments that stand out in my mind. Like when we walked into the Wichita country club and a woman sitting at the bar exclaimed, "Betty Dodson". As teens, they'd been in the same high school sorority. She shared how they'd all followed Betty's career and "rooted" for her as she made her way in New York and established her name in the feminist movement. It takes so much courage to leave a small town and head off into the unknown that you can't help but feel alone. Knowing that her sorority sisters were there with her in spirit was so healing for Betty.

Another favorite moment was watching Betty massage Dickie. Betty connects through touch. She always says that her hands are the one part of her body that hasn't aged. She worked the muscles in his arms and legs and back as Dickie fell into her touch. It was so beautiful. As I write these words, my eyes are filled with tears. I was so moved by what wasn't said but rather what was shared between them. I witnessed Betty connect and make peace with the reality of her brother's death.

As this was all going on, I started to feel different waves of emotion course over my body. I was so focused on Betty that I'd forgotten this was the first holiday in 8 years that I was alone. I was alone - menstrual - watching someone die of cancer thinking about my former partner who'd decided to end our relationship before his second round of radiation. He woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that we had to move out of our apartment in two weeks. What became clear was that he wanted to be alone - that he didn't want me around - and I packed my things in a few hours and moved out of the apartment we'd shared for 6 years.

I'm not sure I'd let myself feel anything. I went through the motions and buried myself in work. It's a level of rejection that you can't prepare for...it feels like someone died but there's no funeral. You still get their texts asking for passwords to your joint iTunes account...questions about where the covers to the patio furniture were packed...and each time a little bit of you dies inside because nothing real is ever said.

That's when I got an email from his family asking if we'd booked our tickets to Barbados. We'd spent every Christmas with his family but all that was over. I felt my chest tighten and took a couple of deep breaths. What would I say, how would I say it? Betty helped me draft my reply and I let go...I let go of every last bit of him. That's what I love most about my relationship with Betty. We're always there for each other when the chips are down. We argue and we bicker - and we laugh and we cry - and we move on together.

As we were packing up to head back to nyc, I felt something I'd never felt before: I missed home. And I've never missed home in my life - not my family home or my married home or my penthouse loft. I thought I was just that kind of person who didn't need roots but that's not true. Spending half my time with Betty and half my time with my family has been so healing. I needed to make myself vulnerable and work through my past to stand next to Betty and do the work.

I'm a 40 year old unmarried woman who owns nothing and lives with her business partner and parents.  It's far from the cultural ideal.  But it's my life and I feel fortunate for the experiences and the relationships I have...my mind is clear and my heart is open ready for what's next.  It's all good.