A few days back, I asked Dad, "So from now on, Mom will never be riding in the van again, will she?" Dad said yes, that's right. When Mom fell ill on the night bridging December 21 and 22, we had passed a threshold.
Since that night, I've been in and out of this hotel room a few times per day, which has meant a great many trips to the coat closet. Inside that closet hangs Mom's empty coat-- a garment she'll never wear again. Mom has reached a point where she now lies beyond our help: from now on, every time she needs to be moved, it'll be professionals, not her family, who do the job.
As I pack our possessions for travel back to northern Virginia this morning, Mom's empty coat is one of the items I'll be folding up and taking back with me.
_
Marathon
12 years ago
1 comment:
There's something simply heartbreaking about this image of your mom's empty coat. I'm continuing to hold all of you in my heart.
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