One of the saddest things was Dad saying that mom had been so sweet the past few months - and i think of how bitter and acerbic she was in fighting with him as i grew up. Something about the wistfulness, the ache in his voice -- he isn't ready, he wants time with her. I witnessed their marriage and ... i just don't understand. I can't imagine.

This struck a chord. Although I wouldn't say that their marriage was horrible, it wasn't a successful one for my parents. They fought often, and I've never been bothered by screaming because it was so typical. Although I was living elsewhere during my father's last years, I remember my mother reminiscing later about how sweet he had become in his decline (he was much older than her), and generous in a way he hadn't been. I had been expecting her to celebrate her freedom after he was gone, since all my life she'd complained about having gotten married. But she missed him a lot and it was hard on her.