Walking through the Pratt campus one hot sticky day in the late spring of 1989, I made the decision to just go for it. My friend Jordan had invited me to stay the whole summer with him in LA.
Yeah, California.
My mother died seventeen years ago tonight. It’s funny the things you remember, you know. I know that everyone suffers loss, it’s such an old story that there’s almost no story to be told at all. But it sure is weird the things you remember, stuff gets stuck in amber doesn’t it?
Someone dies, practically speaking, they just stop aging. Your memories of the deceased stop, but they don’t stop aging. If you get some kind of warning of impending death your mind can go into some kind of super hi-definition memory mode. It did for me, and I’m sure it’s done the same for you too.