Sunset over the bay under a cloudy sky with the silhouette or two chairs on the beach in the foreground

Watching you die

Well, you don’t die during the week I visit—you want as much time as you can get on the planet, and you’re getting it—but you’re so close, you say, that you can see St. Peter when you’re in the shower.

Jan in the loft seated at a table with her laptop open before her. She's wearing a primary colored Hawaiian shirt and has gray hair. There's a blackboard behind her with a quote by Dani Shapiro

Writing as healing after a loss

The act of writing is a tremendous adventure into the unknown, always fraught with danger. But the deeper you go and the longer you work at your art, the greater will be your treasure. Pat Schneider

Jan's friend Georgann and Jan's cat Diego, an orange and white tabby laying on a beige couch together. Georgann has short dark hair and is wearing glasses


I can’t remember when my late best friend started telling me this, but I do know that she mentioned it fairly often throughout the 17 years that she coped with metastasized colon cancer. “I have a grateful heart,” Georgann would say.

Bird palms against a light blue gray sky

Begin with the word and

And so it goes, as we’ve learned, not a way of facing life but of facing death—grief tagging after us like a shadow

Stone sun and moon hanging on green wall

Tell me the world

Tell me the story of how you came to be …

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