I have spent the last month away from home visiting my mom who is in hospice.  I have to send out much love and hugs to the wonderful people there.  They work tirelessly to take care of all the poor souls destined to live out the rest of their days in bewilderment and pain.  There are pictures above my mom’s bed  depicting better times.  She doesn’t recognize these faces  any more, they are not even  distant memories for her.  She is frail and can’t move without help.  Her body is locked up and sleep seems to be her only relief.  She sits at a table with two other women, Carol and Mary.  The table is next to the big picture window which my Mom doesn’t see.  She speaks incoherently and sometimes can’t open her eyes.  Once in a special moment she will come through with a smile.  She recognizes me when she sees me but knows not that I am her daughter.  I asked her one afternoon while feeding her oatmeal and pancakes, “are you still hungry?”

“Yes”  she mumbles.

I lift the spoon to her lips and she closes her mouth.

“Now you are messing with me.”  I smile.

She looks me straight in the eyes.  “Don’t be so grumpy.”  she says plain as day.

I laugh.  There she is.  For just a split second. 

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