The argument with my mother had been a signal moment in her decline, a manifestation of the irrationality and confusion characteristic of the vascular dementia that erased her before she died.
At my mother's funeral... most of my thoughts were of my father... I felt the injustice of his ghostly presence, as if even here, at my mother's funeral, his loss was as fresh as hers.
Any decision that's made with love can't be wrong, whatever the outcome.
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