I hadn't thought about last's in twelve weeks. On May 27th, I lost my youngest daughter to an AIDS related illness. She was twenty-seven. She's been sick for ten years and came home to die. She died in my arms. We got to spend five painful and sad weeks together. I cared for her, I cleaned up puke, I cried. I watched the life being sucked from her rail-thin body. My once beautiful daughter was now a skeleton. We made it through Mother's Day. God gave me a free pass, but I knew it would be any moment. She grew weaker and weaker with each passing second. When the day came, I wanted to hide but I couldn't. I didn't want to face her death. A mother should never watch their child die. My heart died the moment she took her last breath.