Pauline Koppel

The Blackest Book

My mother had a stroke. Full, left sided paralysis. Permanent. It was an incredibly heart breaking and stressful time to witness and support her through. I knew that only death would cure her. I gave her a small black book to write some of her memories in. I didn't read what she wrote as I thought it was private. The weeks flew by and then the months. There was a slow, excruciating debilitation throughout that time. She became quieter, less interested in anything. She slipped further and further away from me and then she died. That was it. Death was so final. It didn't matter that she was 82 years old at the time. Having your mother in your life is often the most beautiful part of your life but you don't know that at the time. The time I had with her would never be enough.