On a sunny September morning 20 years ago I received a telephone call asking me to come immediately to the hospital.
I was staying with my friend Sandy who lived a "walk across the park" from the hospital so I was able to shower, dress and get to the hospital in no time at all. It's times like this that you want to linger to avoid the inevitable . . . You know the feeling. It's like when you were a kid and you wanted the walk to school to last a decade because you hadn't done your homework.
But you hurry because the call was from one of the nurses at the hospital and without being told you know. You know that the end is near - and you rush to be with your loved one - one last time . . .
You are greeted by hosptial employees with downcast eyes who usher you into the ICU and there you are permitted to stay until all hope has faded and your life has changed yet again.
It was 20 years ago that my mother died on a sunny September morning; 20 years ago that September took on a whole new meaning for me.
I'm glad that tomorrow is October. . .
