I scanned this photo from a picture that is over 40 years old and, believe it or not, I haven't photo-shopped, adobe-d or retouched it in any way.

The colors are bright and sunny, as if it were taken just yesterday.

Three generations - my grandmother, twin brother, my mom and me -  pictured together in a moment of serenity, during a time of increased social protest, in the year the Pulitzer Prize was cancelled as the committee announced "no work was good enough."

My mom was only 21 and had already experienced pain and seen enough blood shed to last a lifetime - more than her children ever would.

A promise, my grandmother knew, she couldn't expect to keep.

Yet, my grandmother stood by my mother's decisions (no matter how much, or how bad, it went against her grain) and helped her raise us and taught us, very early on, that no matter how difficult life got, there was always someone, somewhere, who was, "Suffering more than you'll ever know."

Little did I know - until today.

I pulled the chair closer to my mother's hospital bed, so that I could reach over the tendrils of tubes and wires, to be able to spoon the broth into her mouth without spilling too much anywhere else.

She finished most of it, but she'd lost her appetite (with the onset of the fever) and her lips were feeling chapped and numb from the morphine (my brother said) so, I sat back as she lowered herself to a position that was as comfortable as one can get after having gone through a double knee replacement the night before.

Not very, without the morphine.

Long story short, it was a very long day (can it be Thursday, already?) but, today's news that - although they could not regulate her heart rate, yesterday - there wasn't any long-term damage that couldn't be repaired.

At a later date, of course.

I leaned on the railing (after moving the morphine pump a little closer to where she could reach it) and asked my mother if there was anything else I could do for her.

Silence.

"Well, if it starts hurting again...don't be a hero...give that sucker a push and take yourself a hit."

Then, she motioned me closer and whispered something into my ear that...well, made me think about the photo.

"I just wanna see how long I can go...but, if it get's too bad...I know YOU'LL push it for me!"

This is a photo taken last weekend - right before my mom went into the hospital - and I swear, she hasn't changed a bit!

Thanks, Mom - is it any wonder that I can't do without this woman? - thanks for allowing me to grow and be the Mom that I am...I get it...but, I still need you...ya' know.