The end was coming—
Such was apparent.
But constant vigil for weeks
Is wearing, and so
The seven children had finally
Scattered
On that beautiful Saturday,
Only to be summoned back
By a father, in tears.
Clothes quickly packed, drive down,
Through a glorious sunset.
Had they stopped for gas,
They would have missed it.
One in the room with her mother
For the final breaths.
And then peace.
Peace for the mom.
Not yet for the rest.
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