As Alta—who knows—put it the other week, emailing, “No matter the age or circumstances, saying goodbye to a parent’s earthly person is difficult and causes great tremors of transition.”

Paulson’s dad—94—had just died. Paulson’s mom had turned 95 a few weeks before.

Mom wants to tell Dad something now and can’t, she told us yesterday.

She was feeling lonely one day, she said. So she went and sat by the table where the newly deceased persons’ photos and obituaries are displayed. That helped a little.

At lunch she left a lot of food on her plate. She can’t get much down anymore. Her esophagus might be getting crinkly, she said. It’s too hard for the food to get past. At church in the morning she’d been able to hear barely a thing—her ears seemed all messed up.

She and I strolled to the wing where Dad had stayed, near the end. Now an empty bed in that room, an empty chair. They’ll move her there, too, I guess, unless she surprises us all by passing unnoticed from the small corner she takes up now. Then it’ll be goodbye to the other parent’s earthly person.