"I think Daddy did something to himself to get away from me," my mother said.
Three years after my father's death, my mother was focusing on what she believed was a white stain on the brown rug in his home office, where he died. She thought it had something to do with whatever he'd done to hasten his demise. Gentle attempts I made to tell her that wasn't the case proved fruitless. So on a visit, I went into the office with her.
