Depressing Day

Fifteen years ago today, I received a phone call from the woman who did housecleaning for my mother. She asked where my mother was, and said that when she knocked, my mother did not answer the door. I hurried downtown to mother's apartment, where we entered using my key. We quickly checked the apartment, and I found her deceased in the bathtub. There was water in the tub, and she was lying with her head and shoulders against the inside back of the tub, above the water line.

I will never forget that day. I still think of her nearly every day, and I often catch myself thinking of something I want to tell her. She loved her grandchildren so much, and I wish she could know how they have turned out. She would be so proud of them. Maybe she does know; I hope so.