06-02-2013, 08:31 PM
I moved my mom in with me, good times. I cared for her for the last seven years of her life. She died in my arms in the hallway saying *****, *****, I need help. It was like nothing I could ever put into words. When I got to her she just collapsed. My oldest daughter was home, and I had her cradle grandma's head, and talk to her while I called 911. Her heart gave out on the way to the hospital, doa. It's been six years and I still feel so detached from the whole experience. I dream about her bitching at me because I gave her sweaters away to good will. She's like in the closet just flabbergasted because her clothes are all gone. And I am walking down the alley in my church shoes. Trying to get away.