walk into her bedroom just to make sure her chest was still rising and falling.
I did that for twelve years.
Twelve years of watching a once-strong, hardworking woman slowly become frail.
One night, exhaustion finally overwhelmed me.
I sat beside her bed and started crying.
“Mom, I’m only your daughter-in-law. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have anything left to give.”
Fiona had never been a woman who spoke much.
She simply reached for my hand with her cold, weathered fingers and squeezed it gently.
Then she whispered,
“That’s
