In 1998, a staff member at the senile dementia home in Rochester found Mom passed out on the bathroom floor, bleeding internally, moving gently toward death. Mom’s husband Herlie wasn’t ready to let go, so he rescinded
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She looks up at me with sorrowful shame-filled eyes. I’m sorry, her eyes say. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. “Oh Daisy-Girl, it’s OK,” I croon. Her eyes squint with worry. She has squirmed herself off her towel-covered
Read more →It’s hard to distinguish between grief and depression. When does one slide into the other? Who gets to choose the labels anyway? A New York Times article from January 25, 2012 explored diagnostic labels for mental illness.
Read more →Not long before midnight, I put on my miner’s lamp and tour the yard like a one-eyed Cyclops. It’s March 19, 2012, usually a time for snow on my hill in the Finger Lakes of New York,
Read more →The year following my husband Vic’s death, his absence stunned me as I walked by his orderly shelves of books or smelled the acrid scent of firewood he had cut. I woke up and went to sleep
Read more →Welcome to my new website I have reorganized my website to reflect my present life and interests. My new site features writing on my marriage, my husband’s death, and my struggles and triumphs as I create a
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