08/21/2026
A year ago yesterday two certainties collided and one was no more. Mom will always be there. Mom will someday die. The first I believed forever. The second I realized around age 8 or 9, and had dreaded ever since. Then unimaginable finally happened.
It’s weird to sit next to someone who is dying for days in a row. The nurses, who were lovely, would come in every so often and check on her and sometimes say, You’re doing great, Frances. They never called her Fran there. I wondered if she heard them, and if she thought, like I did, somewhat wryly, great, I’m doing great at dying. Perfect.
In June Tim and I went to Goleta to see the gravestone, and then did a little lap around memory lane past the house I grew up in, the parks I used to play in, my grade school and high school. It was brutal/fine. I will need to do it again every year or so.
Swipe through for some Diani History.
