Breaking Apart

A Story by H.L. Pauff

She would forget little things at first like where she put an envelope or what she had for lunch, but as the months passed she grew much worse. She’d often forget my name or my sister’s name and she’d call for her husband who had been dead for almost fifteen years.

“She has to go into a home,” my sister said.

I liked to think my mom was tireless and indestructible, but my sister was right. We had families and careers now and Mom couldn’t take care of herself anymore. We put our childhood home up for sale and used the money to fund her stay at the home. She hated it and roasted us for putting her in there. When she stopped complaining, I knew time was running out.

“My mind is breaking apart,” she said one afternoon in a rare moment of clarity. “I think it’s forgotten how to run my body.”

The doctor said she might last another six months, but she didn’t even make it past Fall. “I’ve always loved when the leaves change,” she said on her last day.