She died at home two days later. Her mother and father and brothers were with her. Hannah Madison, who was not present, would weep for days. Paul Hoffman insisted, his wife silent and unsteady and distraught, that his daughter be buried sans casket, deep in the ground in the manner she’d asked for. It took […]
A month later Vanessa Hoffman went back into the hospital. Old meds faltered and new medications were tried. She was connected to machines again and monitored twenty-four hours a day. Days became nights and nights became days and the hours ticked by and nurses were on and off duty and doctors came and went and […]
“You’re saying memory is cumulative,” her uncle said. “That it? You’re saying remembering changes your memory. Changes the memory. Is that it?” “Yes!” She rolled her head around, took in a deep breath. “Exactly.” She turned to her left, looked at her uncle, nodded, and smiled. “You said it better than I did.” Her uncle […]
They were on the front porch of the Hoffman home, just the two of them, Vanessa in a chaise lounge – it was bought and put there for her and her only – and her uncle, Bill Piatkowski, seated in an outdoor rocker. “Are you up to date?” she asked him. She was carrying around […]