A Funeral - A Memoir of a Woman's Life

Even as a young woman, my mother had always been a gallous thing. She was often too proud and generous to a fault. Towards the end she had a withered quality, some how stuck in another time. So when someone tipped overin alcoholism, it was difficult to pin point the beginning of the end. Everyone agreed her drinking worsened after my father left her. Heavy drinking was hard to avoid. I watched her try. Women grew to be exhausted by her. No one who knew her could tell when her taste for a rare tar the love of time, became the actual tearing of her body. It is glass wegian to like a good drink, to get bluttered pished