The funeral home came to remove Mom's body a few hours after death. As they wheeled her out, maneuvering through the dining room, I leaned down and kissed her cheek. "Goodbye, Mom," I whispered.
I also thought, "If you sit up right now and say, 'Just kidding!' I will yell and say, 'Just leave already!'"
These days, weeks, and months of watching her decline and rally had taken a toll, leaving me exhausted and empty. At this moment, all I wanted was for everything to be over. I wanted assurance that there would be no more false alarms, false hopes, or false promises.
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