I Have Not Come To Mourn. I Have Come To Say Goodbye.

She had been in a nursing home for several years, deteriorating at a snail’s pace. On my annual visits, my brother and I would question the wisdom of stockpiling old people in places like this.

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Sunday Morning Musings: “Excuse me. Did you say condoms?”

There’s a long pause on my end while I try to process the fact that her husband is under hospice care, but apparently well enough to need condoms. I silently wonder if those are covered by Medicare. And I secretly think he deserves a high five.

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