I knew without planning it that the account was going to be finished on this day. That's not just serendipity, it's the architecture of fate. Rather than the dead burying the dead--part of why we have historical amnesia in this country--I, the living, am burying my part of Jeane. Why she picked me to assist her I believe is complicated. For one, I know she didn't want me pissing in the tent and preferred me pissing outwards. You could say she wanted to keep me on ice during the proceedings, most certainly a good possibility there. That means I was definitely onto something, maybe many fundamental somethings about her case. The problem was, not a lot of that was exculpatory. Such is life. Her suffering is over, ours continues until we meet our own endings, like a story. Anything ending tends to choke the best of us up, it's got a sadness to it that's part of the human condition. And so it goes. I'll probably even lay out a meal for her, and all of the people who I and my family have lost--who everyone has lost, because that's what All Soul's Day is about, remembering, honoring, and continuing on.