“No, I’m not ready,” I was adamant. It was winter 2018 in Seattle, Washington, and I was in the middle of maintaining a somewhat unrealistic boundary with my mother. I was not ready to meet her new boyfriend, and she couldn’t make me.
I was 25 years old when my dad died; he was 65. He died from complications with early-onset dementia in our home during the Fall of 2016.
