There was something about my first days as a mother that reminded me of my final moments with my own mother. Neither my newborn nor my mother could talk back. But could they understand me?
After entering foster care, I got used to losing physical things. But my mother's death isn't a loss -- it's an event, an experience that defies language.
I'm an EMT volunteer who knew the paramedics 'working my mother.' Finally reboarding an ambulance a year after her death, I discovered a new dimension to my service.