My mother lived to be 94. She kept her true age a secret, and I only found it out just before her death. (She was a decade older than my father.)
In her last years, I could see she was "slowing down." She took a lot of naps in the daytime. When I had a button come off, she'd used to sew it one for me, but then she couldn't do it any more. That must have been a disappointment for her, as I think she really liked being useful in that way.
And I remember how when we were eating out I'd help her walk to the car. She'd hold on to my arm for dear life. Now that I think of it, when I was little I must have held her arm that same way! The circle turns.
Someone said that for some people, after you mother dies you get more like her. I wonder if that's happening with me? I've been taking more daytime naps than I used to.
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