RobArt Penguin

My mother lived a long and good life, but I wished she lived longer. In fact, I thought she had many years left in her. Unfortunately, she had been living with cancer which was not discovered, because she never complained about the pain and her day to day lifestyle did not change. When the condition was clear, there was nothing to be done. I remember watching her slip away, the way people do when they are naturally passing. I cherished our last conversation, settling for her nodding her head as a response, then later when she could only squeeze my hand. Then, before she passed, she lay still, unable to respond, staring at me with vacant eyes. I searched for life in those eyes, looking for any sign she knew I was there. When I said goodbye, I can’t know she heard me, I can only presume it. It’s been eight years. I still get choked up when I think about it.