I try not to be smashed by my fear, though it presses in on my ribcage (I picture Giles Corey in Miller's famous play). Try not to be crushed beneath the weight of this sinister extrapolation of possible life events. She smiles on me and I know she is okay (why should she visit me during my savasana? such an unexpected gift--another confirmation of the way the boundaries of time and space are lifted in the spirit world--how easy it is to move among the living when we are freed of this "mortal coil"), but I can't begin to be at peace with what her passage suggests about my own vulnerability. About the ways I could possibly lose. OH. I try to be calm. Present. My love breaks me. They are all, these sons of mine. They are all.