The Expletive

Today. My mother is in hospice.

Again.

You don’t think people come out of hospice.

But my mother is not people.

 

Last time she lived on diet ginger ale and coffee, and she waited for death.

We said good-bye.

Then she ate a grilled cheese sandwich.

 

This time, no food and no drink. No more diet ginger ale. No more coffee.

Will it take?

 

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, she tells me.

The expletive.

I teach my students not to use expletives.  

I’m not referring to shit or fuck; I like a sailor’s mouth.

 

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, my mother tells me.

She speaks in expletives. I have no idea what “it” she refers to.

Deciding to go into hospice, I ask.

To die, she tells me. The hardest thing I’ve ever done is to try and die.

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