The number on the bedside clock read 3:48 a.m. and I had spent an exhausting day driving from North Carolina to central Pennsylvania, but I just couldn’t sleep. My mother’s words kept running through my mind. First, on the phone: “They’re taking her off the respirator today. It won’t be long after that.” Dressing. Packing. “It’s horrible. They’re watching the monitors, waiting to see if she’s letting go.” Driving. “She’s gone.” My nieces’  mother died of lung cancer...

My friend and I were having lunch on a restaurant patio the other day when a lime green Lamborghini roared past. “Your son would have gone bananas if he had seen that,” she said with a chuckle. She knows my teenager loves classic rock, skateboarding and expensive cars - and that he’s intense, artistic, quick-witted and wants to be everybody’s friend. My family and close friends know they’ll find my daughter by my side as I roll out the crust for Thanksgiving pies, that we’ll have to call my middle-schooler three...