Gran's box

Your mother had been sick for years. You never did know exactly what was wrong with her though. Countless doctors had examined her and all had to admit she was suffering some something they had never seen before. However, even though they could not pinpoint the disease itself, they all seemed to agree on one thing: it was terminal. Eventually, this mysterious illness would take your poor mother's life. You can remember back when your mother fist got sick. It happened after visiting family in a small town in West Virginia. The trip had ended abruptly when your aunt became furious with your mother for accidentally breaking a picture of your grandmother. You never did understand why your aunt had become so upset, it was just a photo. Regardless, your family had to pack up and leave that next morning. On the drive home, your mother seemed to be dealing with some allergies. Assuming it was just some of the local fauna getting to her, no one thought much of it. Everyone assumed it would clear up shortly after returning home, but it never did. Weeks, and then months after returning, your mother's new 'allergies' were still steadily growing worse. It was always a slow, but she never got even a little better even for a day. Back before it really got bad she always used to joke that 'those darn allergies must have moved in and loved me so much they decided to stay and take over!' Eventually though, she stopped joking about her sickness. It took so much out of her that it made her angry and bitter. She would snap and yell at you for the smallest things, and she would become exhausted and just fall asleep at random times. A few times you even saw her fall asleep while walking. She would be walking one way, then her eyes would slowly close as she drifted off in another direction before jerking awake. You tried to help make things easy on her as much as you could, but there wasn't much you could do. Every time she yelled you tried to remind yourself that it was just the disease and exhaustion talking so you wouldn't start yelling back and just make her feel even worse. The disease affected more than your mother though. Her slow deterioration began to wear out the rest of the family emotionally; as she grew worse, you watched your father and little brother grow worse as well. You felt yourself crumbling too, but you did your best to fight it and pretend like nothing was wrong. Eventually, it became too much for your father. You woke up one Thursday morning to find a note from him explaining that he couldn't stand to be in the house with your mother anymore. He said he had left for good and taken your brother with him. The note didn't say where he intended to go. He was gone, and you were left to care for your mother alone. For years, it was just the two of you. Every day she continued to worsen, and every day you fought harder and harder to keep from breaking as your father had. Every week more and more doctors saw her and gave you the same clueless, useless answers. It was something they'd never seen before. It worked in unusual ways they couldn't understand. It didn't make any sense. It was terminal. It was terminal. There was always that. Eventually, you gave up on doctors completely. Your mother was almost entirely bedridden by this point, and there was nothing they could do anyways, so why should you waste what time you had left with them? Instead, you stayed home everyday to care for her. In those brief moments when you were not occupied by some household chore, you would sit and try to read. You never did process very many of the words anymore, but it was easier to deal with books than it was to deal with television. Besides, if the tv had been on you might not be able to hear your mother when she faintly called out for you because she needed something. As the months dragged on, those calls became much more frequent and much more faint. In those final few years, there seemed to be only one thing you could do to bring a tiny smile to your mother's face: take her picture. She had always loved having her picture taken, even as a li