My brother knocked on my bedroom door at our childhood home. “It’s happening,” he said. I jumped out of bed, threw on a sweatshirt, and ran downstairs to my parents’ room. All my siblings and I had moved away from home years before. But that week, we’d returned to the...
If I close my eyes and think back to the scene in her bedroom, I can still hear her gasping for breath. I can still see my mom’s eyes close as she falls asleep mid-conversation. I wince when I think about her bedsores, and I can’t help but well up with tears when I...
