How do we forgive ourselves? Our parents watch us so carefully when we’re children, desperate not to miss a first scream, a first step, a first word, never taking thier eyes off of us. Yet we do not watch them as carefully. They near the end of life in solitude. Even those who live right beside us die in solitude. And rarely do we catch thier own milestones, such as the last scream before the morphine settles in, the last walk before they cannot walk, or the last word before their throat seals up. But still, you can feel it, the sudden drop of the heart, wishing that you wathed them a little more careful.