An elderly man stood inside the door of the library. He took a wobbly step toward me, nodded, smiled, and said something in a raspy voice I couldn’t hear. He’d been tall once, but was stooped, rounded,
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“I’ll stay until the end,” Lauren said. We knew what “the end” meant, but didn’t know when it would come. Doctors said any minute, but my husband hung on. Vic had gone downhill quickly, so our sons
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“I miss Dad,” I told Mom after my father died when I was 14. “I don’t know what to do.” “I can’t talk about it,” Mom said. “I have to go to work. I don’t want to
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