3:53 p.m. - 2004-12-29
She's Going.
I got through to Beatrice! She is no longer in her pretty little apartment in her retirement high-rise...she is downstairs, surrounded by a phalanx of nurses. I had to be transferred about 5 times, but I got her at last. She sounded shaky. Sedated. Greeted me. Told me she is "no longer able to communicate."

"I know," I said, trying not to cry. I told her that I had tried to contact her on Christmas and had failed.

"I know. You're a good girl," she said. "You haven't called a minute too soon. Go with the flow. I sure do love you."

"I love you, too." We repeated ourselves a few times.

I let her go.

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