sick Mother in Law
fiction
edward w pritchard
Oh how they loved us all originally as the hyper talented and genius baby. Doting on our every smile and seeing the purpose of the universe in the movement of our hands. We conquered something new every day that first year of our life and we were the center of attention, a miracle to behold.
Then three quarters of a century plus five years raced by and all are old and functioning poorly. Our strength is gone and we are no longer ourselves. Perhaps we have lost the ability to communicate the mystery of death and non being that we are imminently facing. It happens to us all given enough years; protracted life is protracted woe sayeth the Greek tragic poet.
Thinking of end of life issues for a sick friend
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment