Dear Readers: Like most of us, I grew up hearing that it’s the little things that count. I’m becoming increasingly aware of the truth in the old adage. As I look back this Mother’s Day on my mom’s last year of life, I remember how important the smallest things became to her as time went by.
Because of frequent falls and other health problems, Mom spent many years in a nursing home. Dad also made his home there after surgery catapulted him into instant dementia. At least they were together. The facility was just a couple of blocks from where I lived, so I was able to see both parents nearly every day. My sister, whose home was about 50 miles away, would come to town nearly every weekend to see our parents, and a few long-time friends visited frequently.