My mother won’t die.
I know, it’s awful to say. I don’t particularly want her to die, but it’s inevitable. She’s dying. She’s been dying. I can’t change that.
The problem is that she won’t let go of the dying part and move into the next phase.
Dying is an awful, awful process.
If you’ve ever seen someone who’s dying, you know what I mean.
There’s nothing I can do to really make her comfortable. Her body is worn out.
It’s bone against bone. Paper-thin skin. Everything aches.
She’s too weak to do anything.
But still she persists.