This is beautiful. I cared for my Dad in the last year of his life. He was a farmer once, too. Strong and tanned, swinging a hay bale in each hand as if they were feathers. There he sat, sun shining on his face on my front deck and he’d start to laugh softly, randomly. Linda, remember when…. ? That year filled my heart and broke it to pieces all at the same time. Blessings to your Mom.