Life as an Extreme Sport


Mom, in the last 24 hours, has started to occasionally say that she can’t go. Yesterday, she was sitting up, with the help of Tracy on one side and me on the other, gripping our hands tightly – mine so tightly she left half-moon shapes in my skin. And she started saying, over and over, that she couldn’t go, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t. It became a mantra for a few minutes.

I’m sitting in my room (okay, my sister’s room, but it’s mine temporarily), listening over the baby monitor, and just heard Mom say she has to go. And Tracy told her yes, she does, and it’s okay, we’ll be okay.

It’s time for her to go.