The heartbreaking truth about advocating for aging parents in today’s health care system
My parents were born on the same day, six years apart, Depression-era babies. My dad died on Christmas Eve, 2016. Nearly every Christmas season after that, for the next seven years, I hoped Mom would follow him.
Was I wrong to wish that?
Dad played Santa Claus for three decades, donning a suit that had belonged to his mother, along with her bearskin gloves and a set of sleigh bells. Eventually, he …