Frances Whitney’s Jabberwocky has been a consistently good read since I found it through her son, my friend Leonard. Frances, who (to my understanding) has been living with HIV for years longer than expected, is getting ready to remove her IV nutrition pump. She isn’t up to writing anymore, but her daughters and sister continue to update for her as they talk to hospice, put Post-its on her belongings and record their conversations together. I wish we’d had something like this during the last months of my dad’s life. Their pragmatism is beautiful.
Dear gentle reader: this blog has been operating continuously since I was a teenager. The writing below is at least a decade old. In that time every molecule of my body has been replaced, along with many foolish ideas and flighty beliefs. I want to keep some of those things public out of an honesty and humility I owe the world. I trust you to carry that context with you.