Mother

[Bernard JOLY <JOLY_Bernard@xxxxxxx>]

 My dearest mother,

You will not read this message : you are now so emotive I dare not show it to
you. I will come to see you with some flowers ; my sister, with whom you live,

will chat with us for some time, and she will leave to do something
else.

Then, I will tell you again about the list I created for my fellow  PWP's and
those who care for them. I will explain the new friends, the dialog popping
out of our strange machines, the support to those who cannot cope. You will
say "I am pleased you make yourself useful" ; your eyes will become brighter,
and your smile will light up the room for a while. Then fatigue will overwhelm

you, your slim body will shrink back in the armchair you no longer leave, and
your face, so beautiful some years ago, will become that of a very old,
very tired lady.

You were hit first by PD. You arrogantly ignored it, until you were twisted
like
a question mark and painfully blocked by cramps. When it was my turn, we were
already so close to each other, and I was so willing to avoid hurting
you, that I pretended to be OK. But I was fighting already, in a better way,
more aware of possible errors, determined to serve others before becoming,
some day, a very old man in an armchair.

Mom, you gave me this life, and I like it.

I love you

Bernard
(with kind help of Teresa Marcy for careful translation)