Moisturize: Wendy Norman

Wendy Norman is the Founder of KnownWishes.com, an education and community‑awareness organization dedicated to helping people understand the importance of advance healthcare and end‑of‑life planning. A Northwest native, Wendy started her career at Nordstrom in 1982 and moved to Microsoft in 1995. Her path shifted in 2017 after her mother’s experience with early‑onset Alzheimer’s led to 15 years of avoidable suffering. Through that journey, Wendy discovered the critical steps her family could have taken to honor her mother’s wishes — steps most families never learn until it’s too late. Determined to change this lack of awareness, she founded Known Wishes.

What advice would you give your younger self?

To moisturize. Everywhere. I’m not kidding.

I’d tell my younger self that mistakes don’t make you flawed. They make you seasoned. Like a cast‑iron skillet — sturdy, reliable, and capable of cooking up something pretty spectacular once you’ve been through the fire a few times. 

I’d tell myself that aging is like finally getting really good at playing the piano. You stop relying on the sheet music and start playing life by ear. You look up from the keys, notice who’s smiling back at you.

I’d make sure I knew that life has a way of surprising you in the gentlest of ways. One day, you realize the things you once hoped for have quietly grown into the life you’re living — not perfect, but beautifully yours.

What wisdom would you share with a younger person about aging?

Aging is an honor and a privilege… with a few minor technical difficulties. Your knees will creak, your back will negotiate like a teenager, and you’ll make noises when you stand up. But your heart? Your heart gets wiser, softer, and shockingly expansive.

Some people worry the world gets smaller as you age. I say only if you let it. Aging gives you time — time away from the chaos of earlier chapters. Time to learn the things you always meant to learn, read the books you never got to, chase the passions you shelved for “someday,” and sit with the people who make your heart feel at home. The quiet that comes with aging can be honored as stillness or filled with some of the most treasured moments of your life.

And finally, as you get older, you learn that compassion is not weakness — it’s power. Tolerance is not passivity — it’s peacekeeping. And choosing to see the cup half full isn’t naïve; it’s survival.

What does the next chapter of your life look like?

Waking up each morning, taking inventory of what’s still working from head to toe, and using whatever capacity I have left to leap — shuffle — or roll out of bed.  To keep pursuing the passions and the people who fuel me and remind me I’ve still got something to give. And nothing beats the rare, magical moments when my two sons decide my “contributions” are novel, valuable, and even appreciated.       

I also want to stay open to the evolutions happening around me.  To embrace them, instead of fearing them. If AI wants to do the laundry and sit on hold with customer service, I say: be my guest. I’m all in.  But on a serious note, the advancements around technology are providing opportunities for people who could never have imagined living alone, leaving their home, or easily communicating and engaging with the world around them.  While some doors will close with innovation, I believe many more will open. 

Most importantly, I want to leave a legacy that honors the people and communities who have shaped my life and meant so much to me. Living every day as if it could be my last is the easiest way I’ve found to achieve this.  Not in a morbid way, just recognizing that every day truly could be the last time you get to say, “How can I help you?” “Thank you.” “I love you.”  “Goodbye.”