And it was as if the Universe knew that even caregivers need care.
The care for her father may have carried the cost of a few relationships, but small nuggets of kindness do slip through cracks.
As Mei's fatigued form collapsed on the sofa, there was a knock on the door. It was Mrs. Lim, her portly, kind neighbour.
"You know, I had to do this for my dad when he had dementia too."
"Really?" Mei, despite her tiredness, sat up, intrigued. "How did you cope?"
Mrs. Lim patted her on the shoulder and smiled. "Asking for help doesn't mean that you love your dad any less.It just means that the human body has its limits."
Mei's mouth opened in response, but closed again. The weight of her neighbour's words carried necessary heaviness
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