My uncle died this day. I got the call today, almost two weeks after I came back from the Philippines. It was a surprise, because he looked like he was recovering when I last saw him. He no longer needed oxygen through a tube, and he could eat porridge again, and my family had managed to get him up and seated again in his favorite chair — or so they said. I remember he actually laughed before I left and after he’d fought back from the brink, and his getting better actually made my mom well too.
UPDATE: This moth, the first sign of life after winter, flew into my room the very same night: