http://thesisterproject.com/roach/you-dont-have-to-make-it-up/ Marion Roach Smith's alternate sisterly reality, with Margaret Roach. Wed, 08 Sep 2010 18:41:39 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0.1 http://thesisterproject.com/roach/you-dont-have-to-make-it-up/comment-page-1/#comment-176 marionroach Tue, 20 Jan 2009 18:28:00 +0000 http://thesisterproject.com/roach/?p=370#comment-176 Oh, Sandy: That is lovely, as well as exactly on point. And it's an even larger story than we expect. We are amazed by the idea that for you, that small moment in a huge event signaled your true connection to your husband. Exactly. A marvelous scene in memoir because it is small and because it is true. Thank you for the fine example. Oh, Sandy: That is lovely, as well as exactly on point. And it’s an even larger story than we expect. We are amazed by the idea that for you, that small moment in a huge event signaled your true connection to your husband. Exactly. A marvelous scene in memoir because it is small and because it is true. Thank you for the fine example.

]]> http://thesisterproject.com/roach/you-dont-have-to-make-it-up/comment-page-1/#comment-175 Sandy Daigler Tue, 20 Jan 2009 01:43:50 +0000 http://thesisterproject.com/roach/?p=370#comment-175 I am thinking of my mother-in-law. She had no sister, but she treated me like a daughter and a friend. The night she died we stayed at the hospital all night since we had been told she didn't have much time left. I was sitting next to her holding her hand while my husband caught a few minutes of sleep -- she was only semi-conscious by this point and I remember the sound of the monitor tracking her slowly fading heartbeat. Every now and then I thought I saw an expression on her face and I was worried that she was in some kind of distress, so I just stroked her hand. Then, and I don't know why I did this, I told her it was okay to go because I would always take care of her son. I don't know if she heard me. She lived through the night and died late the next morning. I think about that promise a lot. In a strange way, I feel like that was the moment when I really got married. I am thinking of my mother-in-law. She had no sister, but she treated me like a daughter and a friend. The night she died we stayed at the hospital all night since we had been told she didn’t have much time left. I was sitting next to her holding her hand while my husband caught a few minutes of sleep — she was only semi-conscious by this point and I remember the sound of the monitor tracking her slowly fading heartbeat. Every now and then I thought I saw an expression on her face and I was worried that she was in some kind of distress, so I just stroked her hand. Then, and I don’t know why I did this, I told her it was okay to go because I would always take care of her son. I don’t know if she heard me. She lived through the night and died late the next morning. I think about that promise a lot. In a strange way, I feel like that was the moment when I really got married.

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