Friday, February 8, 2008

Bad Days

My mother died three years ago today. She had fought Parkinson's disease for over sixteen years. I was her caregiver. I was with her early in the morning as life slipped away. I held her hand and petted her head. I don't know if she knew I was there, but that doesn't matter. She was not alone when she died, that is what matters. I have been alone ever since.

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