The final journey – part 1

Sometimes there was quiet accusation in her eyes; eyes that had lost their humor and once-bright spark of vitality. Those eyes, for the most part, now reflected sadness, and a consuming self-pity that often moved her to voice regret. Regret that she had made so many children and so many sacrifices for their sake. Regret that she had accepted a lifetime of abuse, unwarranted criticisms, and the disdainful airs and graces of self-deluded people—all in the name of fulfilling her role as a woman and, more important, as a mother. And lying on her bed where she was confined because her leg muscles had atrophied, she would stare off into space with one of her Parkinson’s-affected hands cupping her chin.