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Strawberry Liqueur

My mother loved strawberry liqueur very much. It was my greatest pleasure to take her favorite liquor when I stopped by.

When they got older, my family moved into an elderly nursing home. Partly because my mother had Alzheimer's, my father was also sick and could no longer care for my mother. They stayed in different rooms but still spent most of their days together. They still loved each other very much. These two white-haired lovers walked hand in hand in the corridors of the nursing home, visiting friends and distributing love to their surroundings. The elderly became "romantic" lovers of the nursing home.

When I realized that my mother's condition was getting worse, I wrote a letter of my thanks to her. I asked him to forgive me for hurt him while he was growing up. I told him that he is the perfect mother and that I am proud to be his son. I wrote things that I wanted to say to him for a long time, but couldn't because I was a stubborn person, but couldn't because I was a stubborn person. Maybe he would not be able to understand my words of love soon after. My letter was a very detailed love letter. My father told me that my mother had read my letter many times later.

It saddened me that my mother could no longer recognize me. He often asked me, "What was your name?" And I always proudly told him that my name was Larry and that I was his son. He was smiling at me then, holding my hand. If only he could touch me again.

On one of my visits, I bought both of them a bottle of strawberry liqueur. First I stopped by my mother's room, introduced myself again, after a few minutes of chatting, I went to my father's room to take his liquor.

When I got back to my mom, she was almost finished with the bottle. He was lying on his bed. He was awake. He smiled at me when he saw me enter the room.

Without saying anything, I pulled up a chair and sat next to it. Then I reached out and took his hand. Everything was perfect. He could feel my love for him. We both felt the unconditional love for each other, even though he was not aware of who was holding his hand. Or was he aware that he was holding my hand?

After about twelve minutes, I noticed that he was shaking my hand ... three times. Without hearing anything, they were telling me something.

Divine power and our own imagination feed the miracle called unconditional love.

I didn't believe it! Although he could not express his thoughts the way he used to, he did the same without using words. For a moment, my mother was back to her old days.

Years ago, when my family was dating, my mother said, "I love you!" Said. He found the way to say. To my father. My father shakes my mother's hand twice, "I mean you too!"

I shook my mother's hand twice. He turned his head towards me and smiled at me in a way I will never forget. His smile radiated love.

I remember very well how he expressed his unconditional love for my father, our family and our friends, whose number I do not know. This endless love of my mother has always deeply affected my life.

Another ten minutes passed, without speaking a word.

Then he suddenly turned to me and said in a low voice, "It is very important for a man to have a lover."

I started crying. These were tears of happiness. I hugged him and after I told him how much I loved him, I left.

My mother died shortly after this incident.

Little was said that day. The words that spilled from my mother's mouth were worth gold. I will not forget that very special moment until I die.


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