I remember wishing my mother would hurry up and die after slipping into a coma from which we knew she wouldn’t wake. The days dragged on, ultimately for almost a week, and by the end of it we were exhausted and beyond ready for it. Selfishly, because we needed it to be over. Selflessly, because the ‘compassionate’ way of taking away food and water to let a dying person die turns them skeletal, starves them, wastes them away.
-20 April 2017
This post is part of the I Remember series.