I got terrible news the other day. My friend Miriam's daughter Ruby had suffered a massive cardiac arrest. She had just turned nineteen. They took her off life support right before I attended a first holy communion party, for a little girl also named Ruby. The shock hit me at the party, as children played in the bouncy castle. Only last summer I was sitting in Miriam's garden, chatting about art and drinking wine in the sunshine, while Ruby–beautiful, talented, and sensitive—flitted in the background.

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