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 .

She said to me ” I am scared “.