Tonight, I held Sanna while she sobbed that she doesn't want to die. Six years ago, I held my mother while she did the same. I wish I had known what to say either time. Six years ago, I said nothing. Tonight, I simply said, "I know."
I called my mother on the phone today. Rather, I called the owner of my mother's former business, and the new owner, for whatever reason, has kept my mother's voice on the answering machine. After her death, when the business was being run by my father and still operating in his home, it made sense to keep it. I don't know if it doesn't make sense, if it's illogical to keep it now, but I can imagine a variety of reasons to change it. But the business is still named for my mother. Her voice is still there. The people in the office will hear it regularly.
