I never write here anymore. But not doing my annual post about my Mom just adds to my (irrational) fear that I am forgetting her or not honoring her memory. So I write.
Last week, I explained to a friend what it's like to be with someone at the end of their life in Hospice care. My explanation was pragmatic, exposed and maybe a little harsh. I've been thinking about it and realized I forgot to tell this friend the most important part of that experience: it is a privilege.
My Mom was with me the moment I came into the world. And I was with her during her last moments in this world. To give her water, rub lotion on her face, hold her hand, listen to her last thoughts in the garden of the Hospice, hopefully bring some peace to her, that - that is the privilege of being Linda's daughter. 7 years later, I am grateful for those experiences.