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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 stillness
of this sacred time together there was a sense of comfort, that I could be with her
during this very diffucult and intimate time.
Judy, thank you for so eloquently writing this essay.