I can’t do this and it eats at me, but then, without announcement or connection, something turns up.My children Alice and John Henry and my daughter-in-law Alice—yes, another one—and my granddaughters Laura and Lily and Clara, who together and separately were as steely and resplendent as a company of Marines on the day we buried Carol.Why do they sustain me so, cheer me up, remind me of life?In the days before Carol died, twenty months ago, she lay semiconscious in bed at home, alternating periods of faint or imperceptible breathing with deep, shuddering catch-up breaths.
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I’ve forgotten, perhaps mercifully, much of what happened in that last week and the weeks after, but this recurs.
For almost a year, I would wake up from another late-afternoon mini-nap in the same living-room chair, and, in the instants before clarity, would sense her sitting in her own chair, just opposite.