Like little girls, we huddled under the white sheets and sobbed. We needed sleep. The night before had been spent at our mother’s side as she writhed in agony and finally lay still and grew cold. But we chose to cry and comfort each other instead.
Today we are 750 hundred miles apart with our own children, responsibilities and to do lists. but the feeling is the same:
and to my brothers talk to me on the phone and take me to lunch,
and especially to my sweet husband and children who have been with me every day– sobbing, angry, bitter, furious, swearing, disorganized, depressed– of this exhausting year. I haven’t been myself. I haven’t been wonderful. I have not been strong.
Thank you for loving me through it all.
I miss you mom.