The only “intimate” death I’ve been associated with, Lisa Gallagher, is my mother’s; she died last year in March at age 100, about an hour before the day of my dad’s death 29 years before in a car crash in Florida.

For about a week, she talked (when she talked at all) about seeing my dad in bed with her, near her, around her. She adored him, and life without him to adore her back had been hard.

So there may indeed be something to the idea that those we loved and were loved by will be there for us when we die, a truly comforting thought as none of us gets out alive.

Beautifully written as always, Lisa!