Now, even the simplest everyday tasks could become overwhelming.
Whenever she accidentally dropped something, she would lower her eyes and whisper:
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. My hands just don’t listen to me anymore.”
I always tried to comfort her.
But over the past few months, I’d noticed that she was becoming quieter and quieter.
Sometimes, she would ask:
“Emily, aren’t you tired of taking care of me?”
“Mom, how could I ever get tired of you?”
She would smile, but somehow, I could tell she didn’t believe me.
I never understood why.
Not until that terrible morning.
Inside the ambulance, I held my mother’s cold hand.
“Mom, if you can hear me, please don’t give up.”
When we reached the hospital, the medical team immediately took her for examinations.
Robert and I were left in the hallway.
“If something happens to my mother, I will never forgive you,” I whispered.
