Page 38 - Philly Girl
P. 38
22 Janice Shapiro
her morning oatmeal—and she had lost about 30 pounds.
Clearly, it was time for assisted living. She clung to her purse
but resisted revealing anything about her bank accounts to
either my sister or me. She never really trusted anyone.
After she fell and broke her hip—not once but twice—
we began to look for the last place for her to live. And as we
made preparations, my mother couldn’t find her purse! She
had never let go of that old purse she loved, given to her by
a dear friend. She loved it. I knew then that my mother was
giving up. She was feisty and sometimes she could be mean,
but that purse had been her constant companion, and she
finally let that go too. After that, she lived—purseless—for
another two years.
