I looked at her wondering if she needed anything. She had been resting quietly though her eyes were wide open . Over the years I had stopped noticing the sweet softness of her big , brown eyes. She was my mother after all and I was accustomed to looking in her eyes for signs of approval , worry or love.
Here she was facing , experiencing , her end of life.
I was caught up with the daily practicalities of her care. It protected me from my own fear of was still to come. I had not been able to imagine a world with out her in it in spite of past my experiences with the losses of loved ones. And there she lay , quietly . I wondered what she was thinking more often than I asked .
Her lips began to quiver , her brow and her eyes suddenly acquired the appearance of a frightened child .