She remembered the cramped hospital beds and plastic-tasting water. Ashley, crying in a hallway, trying to hide it. Her son-in law, Robert, taking phone calls about insurance approvals and medication dosages. The relentless beeping of machines. And yet, through it all, they had stood by her. They never let her fall.
Before the diagnosis, life had been generous—even in grief. After George passed, Tula mourned, but she didn’t retreat. She remained a fixture in the community—volunteering at the library, attending jazz nights downtown, laughing too loudly at local comedy shows with her friends. Sundays were for golf, wind, and friendship.