I am morose and mopey today. The death of a loved one does that. You see, my mother in-law died just the other night. We knew she was failing. Indeed, I’d gone to see her a couple of weeks ago to say my farewell. But still the call, which arrived at 2:13 a.m., was like a kick to the gut: “Barbara is dead.”
She struggled for the past seven years with a cascading dementia. At first, she was merely confused, then dependent, then incapable of caring for herself. In the end, there were days in which she seemed so terrified that it was easy to hate the gods. Why this torment, this torture?
