And it's true. Tragically true. She was a little woman with two grown kids, an estranged husband, a pack-a-day habit and an alcohol problem. She had a series of aquarium pets, a history of mediocre boyfriends, and some drinking buddies. She and her daughter were close, but she spoke to her son on major holidays only, and saw him about once a year. If she ever had any dreams or talents or ambitions, I never saw them. That doesn't mean they weren't there, mind you. . .But I knew her for eight years and I couldn't tell you a single thing that made her. . .well. . .significant.
That word will haunt me now. Whatever else is said about me after I'm gone, I really hope people think I was significant.
Especially my kids.