Five sat at the table, including me. The other four, including my mom, were residents in the retirement center’s assisted living section. It was Mom’s first meal in her new environment, having moved the day before from her independent living unit, where she and Dad had been before his death, to a much smaller room …
“Whatcha preaching on?” That’s how my dad would answer the phone for years when I would call him on Sunday mornings. We talked each day, early in the morning, just for a few moments. There is something about talking to Dad, whether it’s small talk, “just checking in,” or something more pressing, like “Is it …
I keep Katie’s notes by close to my bedside, not just because I promised her I would, but because they bring me hope, especially on those nights when despair wants to crawl in bed beside me. You have them, too, don’t you? Those nights when your fears decide to have a party, and their racket …