My husband knows the stress that I am dealing with, w.r.t. my mother's dementia. He is my rock, he is the one I cry on when it all becomes too much.
"How was your day with your mother?" he asked.
Same old, same old... and I told him about some of her new quirky behaviors.
"So it was a good day" he stated.
I really was brought up short.
Nothing has gone horribly wrong, Mom and I had spent a pleasant day together.
She was alive, she was happy.
Yes, it was a good day, but I still want to cry.