This morning my mother died. Her death followed a long struggle with several illnesses, all related to smoking during the fifty-three years of her marriage. She began at a time when smoking was fashionable and […][…]
Orphan: My mother is dead. I’m glad. I was a good son. My mother is gone. I’m sad. I was in love with her. My mother loved me. It hurt. She loved my brother […][…]
My brother’s troubles began with my parent’s marriage. They knew each other for only one week when they married. Mother told me that she only agreed because she was twenty-five, an old maid. Dad was […][…]
