As my mother was dying, I came across the picture that accompanies this post, a picture I’d never seen before. I’ve looked at it over
The Dressing Table
Granted such a desire may seem strange. After all, it’s not 1964 and I am not a woman who spends time carefully preparing for a leisurely day of bridge and shopping. These days the dressing table seems a relic from another time, full of memories perhaps, but in no way a necessity.
When Days End
Perhaps you wonder why I write about all of this. This is the third post I’ve written about my mom’s death. And it may not be the last. Is she paralyzed by grief you might ask? No. Is she okay? Yes, I am okay. But life is busy and death is such a demanding teacher…
When we’ve opened a vein…
In the end, my mother died of hypovolemic shock. This means that during the 48 or so hours between when we decided to stop treatment
No More Silence on Sam
So many colleges and universities have them. A monument that has been on the campus as long as anyone can remember, located in a prominent
A Letter to My Mother
Dear Fox, Old Friend, Thus we have come to the end of the road that we were to go together…
-Thomas Wolfe
