My mother died when I was in college.
She was 63 and I was 23.
When my father called me to come 'home', I went to see the Episcopal priest because I wasn't sure I could drive the 190 miles without God's grace.
He put on full vestments and gave me communion and healing oil and I made it home.
She lived another three days but passed away without ever meeting her grandchildren who were born after her death.
And my Dad was forever changed. He barely noticed his grandchildren or even me after that.
Then he called me one night and said 'my friends' were going through his house and he had his gun out. I asked him to get one of 'my friends' to talk to me and he couldn't, because it was all in his mind.
I flew down the next day and brought him to New Haven after clearing out his house, including all my mother's clothes.
Mom, I miss you so.
Happy mother's day wherever you are....
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