My clothes looked lonely hanging there in that big closet all by themselves.I put on my tan pants, my white t-shirt, and my black flip flops. I check ...yself in the mirror. I look good, but sad. I have to brighten up pretty quick unless I want to have to go through another emotional talk with my parents.I make sure that I have everything, and then take my bags out into the hall.I turn and go back inside, grabbing my purse and taking one last look around my room.I shut the door behind me, take my. Later...Was it years, later? Decades, maybe.There is no time when you're dead. Only now, forever...Another flash of memory.My mother, weeping at the kitchen sink, was holding a sheaf of medical papers in her hand. She stared at the papers as if they were a palpable enemy that she could rend, tear, or kill. Her tears were hard and angry – but soft, and almost helpless. Hindsight cleared up so much, and I now know the anguish she felt as the sterile, white forms pronounced her death sentence.For. More

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