by Nancy Rommelmann I’d like to introduce you to my mother. Not the woman I am sitting one foot away from in a Connecticut hospital bed, the skin on her hands as fragile as phyllo dough, the veins showing livid purple and the blue-green of old tattoos. Though it is true, her hands have always been this way.
Dear Nancy, this piece was such a comfort to me. My dad died a couple of weeks ago, at the age of 91, after a short illness. Because he was so healthy (golfing, doing yard work, meeting up with friends) until the very end, I’m having a tough time accepting that he’s gone. Honest conversations about aging and death, like in your beautiful essay, help me to feel my emotions. I’m so sorry about your mom, and I hope you can take comfort in what a good daughter and friend you have been to her.
This was beautiful, Nancy. I assume the photo at the top is one of your mother but initially thought it was you. You look a lot like her!
Your description of cachexia caught my breath. My dad had it at the end as a complication of cancer treatment. My sister, mom, and I kept bringing him frosties from Wendy's (his longtime favorite), but he kept wasting away. I found it very hard to witness.
I hope this period is as peaceful for you and your mom as it can be.
Dear Nancy, this piece was such a comfort to me. My dad died a couple of weeks ago, at the age of 91, after a short illness. Because he was so healthy (golfing, doing yard work, meeting up with friends) until the very end, I’m having a tough time accepting that he’s gone. Honest conversations about aging and death, like in your beautiful essay, help me to feel my emotions. I’m so sorry about your mom, and I hope you can take comfort in what a good daughter and friend you have been to her.
This is so beautiful, Nancy.
100% agree. Beautiful piece.
This was beautiful, Nancy. I assume the photo at the top is one of your mother but initially thought it was you. You look a lot like her!
Your description of cachexia caught my breath. My dad had it at the end as a complication of cancer treatment. My sister, mom, and I kept bringing him frosties from Wendy's (his longtime favorite), but he kept wasting away. I found it very hard to witness.
I hope this period is as peaceful for you and your mom as it can be.
Beautifully written on a heart-wrenching topic.
You've got your mother's eyes. So lovely.
Just lost my mother at 102 - on Mother’s Day - what a wonderful tribute to your mother you wrote. Thank you.
Wow. I feel every single bit of this.