To My Mother: I love you so very much. I think you know this on a certain level. I no longer know what to do. My hands are tied. My heart breaks for you. I want you here but I don’t want you to suffer any longer. These are two seemingly contradictory wishes. As I pray for you to live through each and every crisis, at times I wish you could just go in peace. I felt guilty at first for having these feelings, but I now know that both come from a place of love. Either way I suffer. But it is not about me; this is about you. Oh my dear God, please do what is best for my mother. I miss you, yet you are with me. I love you, yet I get frustrated and angry. It is not you I am angry at, it is this awful disease that strips away your dignity, independence, and the very essence of you. I will try to remember the good times, the way you gave to so many throughout your life. Your unending patience. Oh my dear mother, you do not deserve this. No one does.