My 81 Year Old Mother Replaced Her Caregiver With A Tattooed Biker And The Reason Broke Me

the years of decline. It was a glimpse of the woman she’d been, and it took my breath away a little.

I bent and kissed her forehead. She smelled like lavender soap and the lotion I rubbed into her hands every night. Everything about her was becoming more fragile, more temporary, more finite.

“I love you,” I said.

“More than you know, Margaret.”

But I was continue reading …