She was always there when we needed her. "Mom, where are my blue jeans?" She knew exactly where she had placed them after ironing.

She lays in her bed now, with that glassy stare. "Momma, it's Mary your oldest daughter." She replies, "Papa, I'll get some wood for the fire."

 She cooked three meals a day with the aroma of fresh bread in the air, at times. Sometimes she would bake her beautiful coconut cake.

She is clutching a baby doll tightly as I try to comb her hair. As a tear rolls down my cheek, I try to bring back the past, but she has been gone now for several months.

She worked many hours in her own home taking care of her husband, children and sometimes many of our friends. Nothings was too hard for her.

She is unable to walk, and has to wear disposable adult diapers. I try to get her to eat the pureed carrots and sip some water, but she chokes and I have to stop for a few minutes. I continue the trying task.

 She never complained, but went about her daily tasks as she took care of her family. Loving every minute of it. I remember watching as she fed  my baby brother, Bobby, his baby food.

She seems to be at peace as I make small talk with her. Trying to pretend that she is communicating back. How long Lord, how long?