My mother died at the end of 2019 and I wrote this piece but never published it. This morning, I thought about the people who may be scared to say they are happy about someone passing. Scared to acknowledge the relief they feel. This is for them. My mom died and I am happy. I could justify this statement by telling you facts such as this: She didn’t want to live anymore. She missed my dad. She wanted to go. She wasn’t in pain at the end and she died in her sleep. I could tell

“Everyone lies in the ER.” That statement stayed in my head long after the fear, panic and state of emergency had lessened. It seems as if we all end up in an emergency room at some point in our lives, either as the person in agony, or the advocate for said person. We recently had two very serious emergencies which led to frantic rushing to emergency rooms. The first to a city hospital. The second to hospital closer to home. As afternoon passed into evening on the day of the

I am so friggin over my mom. Just so over this. We were responsible for my mother’s happiness since before we were born, tiny embryos developing and taking in her every thought, her every word, her every action. We were soon to learn that if we wanted her love, we must make her happy. No one knew how to do this, including my mother. If we could make her happy, we would be loved, truly loved for who we were. But she has never known who we are. In my mother’s world, as with any

Sam: “Mr. Frodo, wake up... Don't leave me here alone. Don't go where I can't follow... “ Last night I saw this quote posted on my daughter’s wall, along with other favorite quotes of hers. But suddenly, this one, which I have seen many times before, hit me so hard, that I felt it squeeze my heart and not let go. This is what my Mom feels about losing my Dad. They were married 62 years, and though my Dad was lost to her for years before his death, they were only apart for the

This could also be called, the Price for Overdoing It. Seven or eight years ago, I was planning to drive to Michigan to visit my family and help my sisters with parent care. Things have changed. My parents had to be separated for proper care. My two Michigan sisters hated where we had put my dad for full time care. (Alzheimer's, Parkinson's). They decided they had to break him out.I, of course, wished I could be in on a heist. It wasn't really as dramatic as all that, but on