When her life consists of pain and doctor’s visits,
Is it really a life? Or is it just an existence.
I see the sorrow in her eyes as she tells me,
“Don’t get old”
I want to cry for her because she has done so much,
Lived through so much,
And now her life is reduced to being wheeled to the bathroom
and drinking her food to subsist.
Mom says “God will take her when it’s time”
But it’s time,
she knows that and I know that,
I’ve never wished someone dead,
but I know there’s more for her in death than in life