Wednesday, September 22, 2004

The tears flow more gently now, with a profound sense of resignation. There are very few words, just a hand clasped over the mouth so the inner anguish stays put. Eyes are squeezed shut as if to block out the vision. Slowly, the heads starts to shake from side to side. Defiance. Or wishful thinking.

I sit and watch my mother wrestle with the thought of her new "home." The last place that she will ever live, most probably the place where she will die.

The sadness is palpable, and any hurt or resentment that I felt from my childhood has dissolved. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.