GO PEACEFULLY INTO THE GREAT BEYOND... A POEM FROM THE SANDWICH GENERATION

Mom was very proud of my hair
I've personally never had any luck with it,
but as a baby I rocked the hair world

Let go

Of the sentence you can't finish

Of trying to remember

My name

Where you are

What month it is

Despite the curlers, Mom looks fantastic in this photo.
I look rather worried. Not sure why, exactly.

Let me help you
Clean your glasses
Comb your hair
Ease into this wheelchair
We're moving you down the hall
You won't have to take any more pills
You can't swallow
You don't have to eat supper
If you only want juice
We understand
Your weakness is growing stronger
Your eyes are dim
Your mouth is dry

Mom was thrilled to be a Grandma.
Too bad she didn't get to fully enjoy it.
I tell my daughter that if Grandma wasn't sick,
she'd sew her dolly clothes by the hundreds.

Now it's finally time

for you to let go

And for me to say good-bye

From your daughter, Ann