(THIS ARTICLE IS ONLY MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
When my mother got cancer almost 20 years ago, she invited her family and friends into the death process. She did not try to spare either herself or us.
At first I could be heavy and sad when I visited her in different hospital rooms, or maybe a little cautious, groping. I had just had my first child. I was in my late twenties. She had cancer with spread. She knew she was going to die, just not exactly when, and she felt she had to comfort us. . .
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