Why I Wear My Mother's Robe

December 11, 2014 1:05 PM

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My mother died three years ago. Every morning I wake up, and without thinking I put on her robe. Of all the precious things she gave me; a sense of humor, a love of Mondays, her favorite ring and her golf shoes, it is her robe I love the most. It is soft, pink, and what was. It has a hole in the pocket where she stuffed her Kleenex. It is the robe she drank her coffee in each morning, and now without fail, I do the same.

As her beautiful mind diminished and her frail body followed its lead, she wore this robe. As the things that once held importance for her became less important; talking, reading, cooking, driving, traveling, shopping, and even lipstick, she wore this robe. She wore it on the good days and she wore ...

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