I have tried to care for my mother ever since my father died 10 years ago. I had just finished college and had found a job in my hometown not far from my parents’ house. I’ll never forget the look of delight on their faces when I told them the news in man after I had already permanently moved all of my belongings to my modern apartment. Things were superb for about a year, every one of us decided to go out on brunch trips all the time and I stopped by their locale after work several days to say hello and catch an episode of the television show every one of us were mutually watching at the time. Then suddenly, my father died from cancer every one of us had clue he even had. It was a devastating time for the entire family, but it hit my mother the hardest. She was never the same man after Mom died. I increased the amount of trips to his house and eventually started living there area time to do all of the things around the house my Mom would usually do, love disinfect the rain gutters, trim the bushes, and mow the shrubbery. I have also been swapping out the air filters in his cooling system for his since the access panel can only be reached with a ladder. One afternoon, I accidentally saw one of his electric bills and saw how high the rates were each month. Because I knew he was struggling financially worse after my father’s death, I decided to step in and start paying all of his energy bills for her. It took some insistence to convince my otherwise prideful mother, even though he couldn’t deny he needed the help. She broke down in tears out of gratitude but eventually smiled, hugged me, and said, “Thank you.”