These days, my stepmother, who is almost 95, is getting settled in a rehab center after falling at home, going to the hospital and having technicians fret about her heart and send her on her way. I have called a couple of times and seem to have caught her in the midst of a lot of drugs and some confusion.
Madeline's fragilities hang in my daily window like some gossamer curtain. Will she improve? Will she die? Perhaps it's time, perhaps not.
It is impossible to be sad and impossible not to be.
Madeline's fragilities hang in my daily window like some gossamer curtain. Will she improve? Will she die? Perhaps it's time, perhaps not.
It is impossible to be sad and impossible not to be.
Your sorrow is shared.
ReplyDelete