As I sat with my mother, a month or so ago, thinking this would be my last night with her,I held her hand in mine. No words were spoken. She knew I was there for/ with her.The pain of losing her was inexplicable and hurt to the core of my soul but in the stillnessof this sacred time together there was a sense of comfort, that I could be with herduring this very diffucult and intimate time. Judy, thank you for so eloquently writing this essay.
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