I just received a call from a girlfriend of mine. Her mother had recently been diagnosed with lung cancer and she’s reaching the last stages of her life as I write this. I will be driving out to NY as soon as I can make arrangements for someone to cover my job here for a while.
My friend, Kay, is in rough shape. The care of her mother has fallen strictly on her shoulders and I don’t know how she is doing it while also raising a family. Several people in my life are also dealing with sick and dying parents while trying to maintain their own lives and I am awestruck. I was 15 when my mother was diagnosed with cancer and 17 when she died and taking care of her was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. EVER.
It makes me feel guilty to even think this way, but sometimes I am grateful that she died when she did.
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