Fast Company ran next week's piece this week instead, and I read it fresh, first thing this morning.

Images of my Mom came rushing at me, and visceral fond memories of her have lingered all day.

• The way she made cookies for me and my family since I was tiny and when I was a grown-assed adult
• How she told me that working was a sanctified gift, and to never take it for granted
• The way she wore Chanel No. 5 for fancy events and to this day, it brings her to me
• Our shared love of horses and how she went to work at a remote guest ranch in rural Wyoming when she retired from nursing to be their gardener
• Her sharp mind (and tongue) that devoured books and information and complexity because it was all so darned interesting
• The way she made things, from Irish knit sweaters without one bad stitch to seed bead hat bands, to painted rocks, to a gorgeous garden, and more

And I also remember how it was at the end...

• Her falls resulting in black eyes and stints in rehab centers
• The fear she felt when she left a pot on the stove by accident
• Our fight about her driving long past when she should have
• The blank look she got when I got her a GranPad, after years of tech adaptability
• The sadness when she told me, "my brain has gone to mush."
• Frantic trips back from work to her place after something happened, over and over again.

Mostly I remember that she counted on me to help her manage the end the way she wanted, and how even still, I am not sure I did.

I know I tried.

Are you navigating caregiving while working? What solutions have helped? I want to know, and I read every response.

I always expected I would be my Mom's carer at the end, I just didn't expect it would go down so hard.

​The article I wrote is about how we must design workplaces to support our whole life and caregiving at all the passages, especially, but not only, for women. The sandwich generation is no joke, and I wish I had been better prepared for dealing with Mom's final months than I was.

I miss you every day, Mom.