My mother spent the last three months of her life shuttling between a hospital and a rehab center. When she was finally released to go home from the hospital, I went to help her out. She was being wheeled down on a stretcher for her final x-ray and I walked behind her. She turned her head around to me and said “Your shirt could have been ironed.” That wasn’t nice but that was my mother who was always concerned about appearances. At least she still was mentally sound. I wasn’t amused then but I am now. My mother died six days later. I learned that your mom is your mom right up to the end.