Chapter 24 - VIVIAN’S LAST YEARS
Mom lived longer.
She became gentler without becoming easy.
At seventy, she still tried giving June career advice as declarations.
June corrected her.
“I didn’t ask.”
Vivian stopped.
“Right.”
That tiny exchange would have been impossible thirty years earlier.
Mom eventually told me more about Margaret.
Not finance.
Motherhood.
Margaret was funny.
Bad singer.
Terrified of thunderstorms.
Loved expensive pens.
Could not bake.
Once drove six hours because Vivian forgot a dance costume.
People are more than the systems they damage.
That did not erase Margaret’s role in pension failures.
I was glad to know both.
Vivian developed breast cancer in her seventies.
Treatable initially.
Later metastatic.
I became involved in care only at her invitation.
She executed medical directives with an independent attorney.
Not me automatically.
She named me healthcare proxy because I agreed.
The irony did not escape us.
At one appointment she said:
“You can say no.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t.”
“Also know.”
We smiled.
Before she died, she asked:
“Do you still have the ring?”
“The original band is archived.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“I spent half my life thinking destroying an object could destroy history.”
She looked tired.
“Turns out records are annoying.”
I laughed.
That was our final joke.
She died three weeks later.
I grieved her.
May you like
Fully.
Without needing acquittal.
