A bad time
We've had a grim time of it. Dad went to bed early on the evening of his 84th birthday (Sunday). He'd had a good day. We were all here, his four children, plus three close family. It was a happy day. But from Sunday evening until Tuesday evening we thought he was dying. It was terrible. On Monday night, James' last night (Teddy left early on Monday morning), I cried at the table. Ma did not cry. James had red eyes. Buddy did not cry. I cried because I thought Dad could die any day and also because Ma told us that she had been keeping hold of the morphine tablets they had given Dad. She wanted as many as possible so that she could over dose on them when he died. She didn't want to live a moment longer than him. She said her time was up; she was not needed any more. We were all fine. I told her that I wanted her to live, that I would make her happy and give her a reason to live. I think she feels very alone. I understand that. It's my mission to make sure she doesn't feel so alone.