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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So Long. I Love You, Babe. A Hospice Story.

From where he sits on the sofa, Vivaldi on the portable CD player next to him, he sees everything but can make sense of nothing. His home gleams. Not a spot of dust anywhere. His wife, with nothing else to do but care for him, has become obsessive. Dust she can control. A husband whose mind deteriorates a little more each day is beyond her.

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