When my mom was dying, it was so much more than I thought.

She wanted so much for us to be ok, to not be overwhelmed by all of it. A mother’s love keeps going to the very end.

There was deep sorrow, but as my sisters and their families drew near, there was a beautiful air in our home.

Miraculously there was joy. We saw each other. We loved each other. We laughed. We cried.

I’m grateful I felt all of this.

The good with the bad.

Because sometimes joy and sorrow hold hands.

And this is what makes it our life.