DS> SB> ALL THE DAYS OF HIS DYING
DS> In March I spent my last week with my mother and on Palm Sunday, March
  > 23rd -- I watched a beautiful Florida sunset as she drew her last
  > breaths and left her pain behind.   Your poem sounds as if you were
  > there with me during that week.  In spirit, you were with many of us --
  > then, in the past, and in the future.
I've been there more than once: with Bill Waddington, whom the poem was
about; with my mother; and with my daughter.  Death and grieving is a
bond that brings people everywhere together.
                           Sondra
-*-
 þ SLMR 2.1a þ Iron in the hand is better than thunder in the mouth.
--- Opus-CBCS 1.7x via O_QWKer 1.7 
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