“As difficult as it was to acknowledge the specter of death that loomed over us, it felt good to share it with my mother. Remaining silent and denying my own feelings wasn’t minimizing the harm I feared inflicting on her. The only way forward was to feel as much as we needed to, talking about it candidly over salted eggs. Perhaps that, too, could be a type of preservation.”
An absolutely beautiful essay that brought me to tears. Thank you Nicole for writing it.