I'd rescued it from her room at the foster home after she died. It's a Christmas cactus, innately blooming only in late November and December. I seemed to hear my brother's laughter as I fingered the delicate white blossoms. Daily I pray for the increase of compassion in my life and the release of judgment. May we all have the eyes to see them, and the initiative to take action.
Compassion is about deeds.
It is a book of humorous and poignant memoirs about life with my manic-depressive mother, ending with my brother Gary's death.