June was born, Mom had been diagnosed with early-onset Parkinson’s disease at fifty-eight.
I was twenty-six.
She faced the diagnosis the way she faced almost everything else in her life—with dignity, stubbornness, and very little interest in being pitied.
She had raised three children after my father left.
Her philosophy had always been simple.
If something needs to be done and you are capable of doing it, you do it.
Not when it becomes convenient.
Not when someone promises to appreciate you.
You see the need.
Then you act.
After
