It was Christmas Eve. Little did I know that six months later, Ma would leave this world forever. She was 91. Had I only known, I would’ve lingered. I would’ve spent more time with her. But that’s just it, we never know, do we? As I rode the elevator to the third floor and walked the long hallway to Ma’s apartment, I wondered if anyone had arrived yet. Her door was already ajar—she always did that when she knew someone was coming. Inside, she sat all dressed up in her glider, as if she’d been ready for hours. That image is etched in my mind. She was alone. My usual…