<p>When Mom first went into her assisted living facility those of us out of town were on the phone with her all of the time.&nbsp;She got calls from across the country multiple times a day along with daily and weekly visits.&nbsp;I called her from the office often.&nbsp;But her hearing after a few years finally gave out and using the phone shortly thereafter became frustrating for her and us.&nbsp;She didn't lack for care and attention but the phone just became a futile exercise.&nbsp;Well now I'm stuck several states away and although visiting every few months that wasn't good enough for me or her.&nbsp;I wasn't going to stop communicating with her so in the meantime I began to write letters on note cards at least monthly.</p><p><br></p><p>After she passed her small box of letters cards and keepsakes that she had gathered in her room got mistakenly tossed out.&nbsp;It was a jolt when she passed and another one not to have those keepsakes that Mom had kept to help the healing process so I began to write her again.</p><p><br></p><p>And why not write Mom again?&nbsp;Who's to say for sure she can't hear me as I'm writing?&nbsp;At bear minimum it was excellent therapy.&nbsp;Think art therapy meets psychic phenomenon.&nbsp;What you have before you are a years' worth of cards and letters.&nbsp;Mysteriously the urge for writing ceased a year to the date of her passing.</p>
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