A round of chemotherapy only made things worse. She died at the beginning of July. When we were unwilling or afraid to say, do or ask the things we needed to, they encouraged us and gently pushed us along. My mother died in her own bed, surrounded by her family, free from pain. It was a good death, though it wasn't perfect.
Nothing ever is.
My mother hated being sick. It depressed and disgusted her. My parents aren't the only people I love who have died. One day it will be my turn. Linda Wertheimer's interview with Mrs. Payne and her family clarified something for me.