Sometime, minutes or hours later, Rita arose, letting me finally slide out of her silky chamber. She kissed me softly once again as she gather up her ...lothing."Paint her, Doc. Paint my mom the way we remember her."When I moved into this house, I held a party and invited all my neighbors to come and get to know the young kid who'd just joined the community. The first guest to arrive was Rose with her two daughters, Rita and Tina. The girls were 9 and 11 years old. Rose was a single mom about ten. I didn’t care who saw me crying. Nothing mattered. My hands lost their grip on my phone. My expensive iPhone X clattered to the floor and didn’t matter. Nothing did. Tears flowed from my eyes in a way that they hadn’t since I was a child.This was different. This wasn’t a skinned knee. It wasn’t a tumble off of my bike. This wasn’t getting passed in the home stretch of a 10K. This was the most heartbreaking experience of my entire life and this time my mother was nowhere in sight.I cried. More

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