For a stretch, we attempted to keep up their normal activities, going to movies, rolling them into restaurants, relying on home health care workers to lift them in and out of cars. But the world slowed down. Only certain places would accommodate us. I watched my parents sometimes, slumped back in resignation, tired shadows of their once energized selves. I could not put you in a wheelchair, Chika, without a choking in my chest.
Oh shit why I understand such thing, it hurts that I actually relate to this.
