On a cold autumn morning in October, Jeanette O’Leary Gordon, failed to wake up. It was over. Brent sat in his rocking chair beside the bed, holding...her cold, lifeless hand, his eyes closed, rocking back in forth, wondering what would come next. How would he carry on without her? Andrea was on the floor, beside the bed, weeping silently in her grief. Scott was in his room, racked with sobs and the pain of the loss of his mother. He, like his father, had hoped that his mother would recover, but. At that point, while she was looking over her shoulder, inviting me to push my body against hers, I did not hesitate much longer and started to gently lean on her. Immediately she turned her head and was sticking out her tongue, a movement from which I inferred quite some desire. I asked her: “You don’t have a bf ?”. She said: “Not here, not now, and giggled”. I realized she was in the good mood and definitely not the shy girl I had been seeing last week. Before I knew I was enjoy the closeness. More

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