Dear Nora,

I'm going to begin this missive by admitting to you that I don't know much about your life but can only conjecture much of it from your death. You died eight years before I was born in 1958 and the circumstances of your death are unfortunate. I only knew one grandparent, and that was your husband John, but was only in his company for a few days during a warm summer in 1962, when the family crammed into the blue station wagon and went East to Oklahoma from San Lorenzo, CA. The only things I know about you are the stories my mother can tell me even though it was my father who was one of your three children - maybe his memories of you were too few or too painful.

It was earlier this year, 2010, when I received a death certificate from Oklahoma that I realized how strange your life must have been. It is only now when, at the age of 51, and struggling myself, can I appreciate your journey and perhaps understand my own a little better.