I was 48 years old when my mother died in 2008. She had battled cancer for 5 years and she played the hand that she was dealt in the most dignified way possible. The last 10 days of her life were spent in a hospital. It was surreal how those four walls became a universe all their own while the outside ceased to exist. The first few days after her death are a bit vague but I remember planning a service with my siblings that we thought brought dignity to her life. I remember the cards, flowers, people coming to visitation and the funeral. I remember sleeping harder in the first two weeks than I had slept in a long time. The reality set in around week three when the cards and meals stopped coming and I started to get back into a routine. The reality manifested itself in the most odd ways. A routine that I had enjoyed every morning after the kids left for school was me sitting down with...