Dad passed away in the fall, just a few days after suffering what the doctors called a catastrophic stroke. He was unconscious from the time of the stroke until he took his last breath in hospital the day after we agreed to have all life support removed.

Mom was stoic throughout, leaving the hospital only to shop for something appropriate to wear to the funeral, as the doctors had advised us that Dad would not be regaining consciousness. Fortunately, he passed away before she wore herself down sitting at his bedside day and night, ignoring her own needs.

The last few years had been hard on Mom. Dad appeared to be in the early stages of Alzheimer's, though he hadn't been technically diagnosed. He was forgetful and increasingly dependent, occasionally contrary and was beginning to display unpredictable aggression. Mom never knew which way the wind would blow. They'd agree in the evening about what they would be doing the next day, and Dad would inexplicably change his mind the next morning and deny that plans had been made. The circles under Mom's eyes were darkening, and she was becoming jittery.

As we planned for the funeral, we were surprised to learn that Dad had left no instructions. He was a forceful man and opinionated, and we expected that he would have left some indication of how he wanted his memorial to be conducted. Apart from being concerned that we might overlook something, Mom seemed inclined to defer to our preferences on specifics where we expected her to have an opinion. It was quite a relief that the funeral was planned by seven offspring without any significant disagreement.

A sister stayed with Mom for a week after the funeral, and along with the brother who lives nearest, sorted out most of the paperwork. Everything seemed to be falling into place except that Mom didn't understand how Dad had the investments set up, and a visit to the account manager didn't seem to help much. That's something I'll be trying to help her decipher over the next months.

With only herself to cook for, Mom isn't eating well. She is diabetic and takes her diet seriously, but she has no appetite and nothing has any taste, except that she says everything's too salty. We've taken her a little upright freezer that fits into a closet and we make sure, every time we stop by, that there's plenty of food in it so that Mom doesn't have to venture down to the basement, as she's quite short of breath some days.

Each of us has spent some time helping Mom

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