My mom went to his funeral and grieved and steeled herself for a move into an assisted living facility, but right before moving in fell and broke her ankle and while in rehab after surgery, developed a UTI that went into septic shock. Their deaths weren't related except in the complications of snowballing medical conditions-my dad died right at Christmas after three weeks in the hospital for pneumocystis pneumonia, which he caught because he was weakened by the steroids he'd been on for the rash that was the first symptom of the lymphoma that would have killed him within a few months anyway. I'm still sorting things and canceling cell phones and getting title to their car so I can sell it. We had the funeral for my mom less than two weeks ago. This time, though, I'm only beginning to return to human after the brutal loss of both my parents over the winter. Normally, by the two-week-to-launch point, I'd be a mess of excited agony. I've been through this before - the anticipation, the worry that no one will like it, the fear that no one will read it, the dream that some key celebrity will pick it up and take it straight to Reese Witherspoon who will turn it into an Emmy-winning series. In less than two weeks, my third book, THE DARKEST WEB, comes out.
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