entire life working herself to exhaustion for her children.
And now, in her final years, her hands trembled so badly that sometimes she couldn’t even pour herself a glass of water.
There were moments when I struggled too.
My husband often worked long shifts in Chicago, leaving me alone at home with our young son and Fiona.
I cooked every meal.
Cleaned the house.
Helped Fiona bathe.
Changed her clothes.
Prepared warm oatmeal in the mornings.
Organized her medications.
And sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would quietly
