True and touching words. This post gets five stars out of five from West Coast Review.
That morning in May 2008, when he called to tell me Mom had died.
I don’t know why, but I never stopped to imagine what that moment must’ve been like for him, after he was told. I picture him in the kitchen, sipping coffee and looking out past the lanai—another Florida day of humidity and haze only just beginning.
The home hospice nurse—heck, I don’t even know her name—how did she deliver the news to Dad that morning? After she spoke with him, when he walked down the narrow hallway from the kitchen to the sewing room, which then served as Mom’s final bedroom, what was running through his mind?
And that moment he gazed upon her, so still—his wife, the love of his life—my mother, gone. How do you take something like that in?
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