Dad and I both had quivering chins and tear filled eyes. Becky, the music therapist from hospice, came again today.
I tucked Mama into bed for her nap today, after lunch, and climbed in next to her for a little
Mama has less to say these days. She mostly hollers or talks gibberish. I can’t remember the last time she
Last night, like most nights now, I fed Mama her supper. She doesn’t pick up her spoon much anymore, so
I walk in the door and see Mama in her rocking chair. “I’m here!” she says. “I’m here, too, Mama.”