After several days of little change, we all came to terms that our mother was leaving us, comforted only by the fact that she appeared to be in no pain. We kids took turns sleeping next to her, just in case. Though Mom spoke no words, she responded to touch by squeezing our hands, shifting her body, or moaning softly when we touched foreheads. On the rare occasion she opened her eyes, she focused solely on the upper corner of the room. Was someone beckoning her? She wouldn’t say.
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