It happened three
years ago… two weeks after my mother passed away.
For the last 15 years
she and I had lived together. Her death was not a
surprise to me. She was a very
sick person for many years, and
in those last months she rarely saw times when she was not in
pain.
She was a very
courageous person. She complained only
if it was absolutely impossible to
cope with the pain. And for my whole life, I saw her caring
about my life and lives of the family
members more than she cared about herself.
My mother was smart and kind. She would read interesting books, watch good movies, go to her club, and then she would tell me all about it. It was so nice to discuss a film or a book with her.
She was loved by everybody who knew her: relatives, old friends, and the new friends whom she continued to collect even after the age of 80. This included the social workers assigned to take care of her.And through it all, she and I understood each other very well.
Then suddenly, she was gone. After two weeks it still didn’t seem real.
My mother was smart and kind. She would read interesting books, watch good movies, go to her club, and then she would tell me all about it. It was so nice to discuss a film or a book with her.
She was loved by everybody who knew her: relatives, old friends, and the new friends whom she continued to collect even after the age of 80. This included the social workers assigned to take care of her.And through it all, she and I understood each other very well.
Then suddenly, she was gone. After two weeks it still didn’t seem real.
