Mom's condo, where I am staying, has Comcast DSL. I'm plugged in using my laptop.
She's bad. Prolly within 72 hours. McSister thinks she might be holding on for me. I've seen her, but I don't think she knew I was there. She's on all the pain killers one could ever want, so she drifts in and out.
Looking around the condo, it's obvious that Mom did not plan on dieing. There are blank canvases and fresh oil paints. There are things that have been started and not finished. DAMMIT!
I feel like an intruder here. But I occasionally find a familiar thing. Things that tell me that this is Mommy's house.
This sucks and it's not gonna get better.
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