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Appreciated your show with Jane Gross....her thoughts and the segement of her writing that were shared. My mother is also deceased, but her long good-by, due to dementia, silbing conflict, the nursing home in which she was placed contained elements I felt terrible about at the time and still do. This poem captures a lot of it:

No Longer There

I see her in the corner
The left side of her face
Midnight blue with bruises,
Her eyebrow stitched together-
My sister called me
The previous night:
“They say she fell,
And her rings are gone,
Probably stolen.”
I walk toward her,
Look down at her left hand
Resting, bare and lonely,
On the arm of the wheelchair-
The rings she had worn
For some fifty years-
No longer there.
I sit down beside her,
Holding resignation like a pillow
Over the face of my spirit.
Oh well, what does it matter;
So much of her is gone—
The parts of her that made
And carried me into life,
Inch upon inch from her
Endlessly collapsing spine,
Her vision of anything but gray,
Her mind and all it ever knew
From the lifting of a spoon
To the name for a spoon
Or even the person it feeds--
Her name, Margaret.
So, what are circles of gold,
Anymore, to her or to me.
My dad, who paid five dollars
A week, to buy them--
He’s also gone.
He went so fast,
It knocked the wind
Right out of my heart.
She’s going so slowly,
It’s knocking all the sense
Out of life.