I have had a lot of people ask me how I am since I've been home. My honest answer, which is unsatisfactory for all parties involved, is: I don't know. So please stop asking. I don't mean that I don't appreciate all the love and care and support that has poured out from all of you amazing individuals, because I do. I could not ask for better friends. And I could not have made it through this without you. So thank you for that.
However, I am dealing with something right now that no one ever talks about. I have read hundreds of articles about the end of life, both religious and secular. I've read about how far doctors would go with their own treatment, and when that treatment goes too far. I've read about the miraculous horrors of which modern medicine is capable of. And at the heart of the issue, I (and other family members) made the decision to not do that to my mother. I made the choice to let her go peacefully on to whatever it is that lies beyond the veil. And I would make the same choice again, but...
She didn't.
And for that, I am grateful.
I am now faced with the question of: What kind of person does that make me?
