A poem
The young daughter of a much beloved mom who died from ALS sent us this poem she sent to her family and friends on the first anniversary of her death.
God saw they were getting tired, and a cure was not to be.
So he put his arms around them and whispered "Come with me."
With tearful eyes we watched them suffer and saw them fade away.
Although we loved them dearly, we could not make them stay.
A golden heart stopped beating, hardworking hands to rest;
God broke our hearts to prove to us he only takes the best.
Author unknown
