Perspective | My grandmother left a legacy as a writer. But that’s not the woman I remember.
On Mother’s Day, my mother said goodbye on behalf of all of us — cousins, uncles, great-uncles. From New York and Vermont, from Washington and Montana, from California and China, we watched her read a Mary Oliver poem in front of the funeral home, her voice straining over the wind.
My grandmother left behind a legacy. She died during a great pandemic, and when it has subsided, we will scatter her ashes in the state that she loved, by the Golden Gate Bridge. Her obituary appeared in the New York
My grandmother left behind a legacy. She died during a great pandemic, and when it has subsided, we will scatter her ashes in the state that she loved, by the Golden Gate Bridge. Her obituary appeared in the New York
