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[58] the eViCtiOn remember when your father went? your mother packed his things and sent them off — to Goodwill, to the Salvation Army. One day of stuffing boxes, labeling them then it was done. As if they had been straightening out closets for years. Or in case it happened as it did — napping on a sofa in April. Perfect month. A perfect month for going, she said. Now when we’re all so mindful of a life ahead. how could she stay behind like that? Call it a perfect event? It must have started earlier for her: the body’s long lament. ...

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