A Bittersweet Goodnight

My step-mother, June, lived alone until her nineties, but over time fell into the depths of dementia. With no biological children of her own, I was the one left to guide her down the path toward the end of her life. Haunted by my father's last words to me to take care of his Junie, I couldn't walk away from this difficult task. In 2008, the recession hit. I was laid off from my job and my husband, Richard and I moved 150 miles away to start anew. June refused to come with us. I kept in touch with her via phone and occasional visits and she outwardly seemed to be taking good care of herself. A local liquor store delivered her vodka and a friend drove her to the store for cigarettes. All was well. That was until her neighbor called to tell me she had fallen. June made her promise not to call me but she did anyway. When I finally spoke with June, I walked on eggshells trying not to let on I knew what happened. She complained to me of being confused and I offered to...