Completely in the Dark

There’s no journal entry, so I can’t recall an exact time. But I do have the date and place: Tuesday, Nov. 20, 2007, at a Placida, Fla., seafood restaurant called Johnny Leverock’s.

It was around noon.

I sat at the bar alone, a vodka gimlet in front of me and cell phone to my ear, fighting back tears.

That morning I’d had breakfast with Dad in their kitchen. He suggested I bring Mom something to eat in the master bedroom where, for what seemed like the first time in years, I saw her. It was clear from her paleness and emaciation that she was dying.

I told Dad I was going out on my own for a while, to drive along the coast and maybe have some lunch. Leverock’s wasn’t far north of their house, so I settled in there for some clam chowder. That’s when I called my…