It's almost two years since I quit my job to be a full-time daughter, after ten years of trying to balance caregiving and work - doing both "the best I could," which was nowhere near good enough (though since my mother's death I've never spent a second regretting something I could have done better at the office). I'm another daughter who cared for a mother who became her daughter. Another daughter haunted and blessed by memories of bad days, good days, terrible days, hilarious days, the best and worst of my life. I have a hundred stories to tell. The attached photo helps tell one, maybe all.

Thank you Meryl Comer for your wonderful book, which I read last night and brought me here.