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Click here to buy this shirt: King Buffalo Dec 17 2024 Fort Worth TX Tour Poster T-Shirts, hoodie, v-neck tee

Seven months after the kids were killed, Covid curtailed our trips to LA. Nina and I checked in after every call with Gail. We’d tell each other: How she sounded, what she said, who did something nice. If she didn’t pick up for more than a day, we’d panic. Sometimes Gail would text and say she was too tired to talk. Then we’d call each other and worry. “I want to keep an eye on her,” Nina would say. “We need to keep an eye on her.” That’s when I thought about it. Gail had trouble getting out of bed. She said she sometimes spent hours surfing the web. The term was darkly humorous but not funny. She’d complain about not getting enough exercise, then say: Who cares about exercise when your kid’s dead? I suggested we do some exercise together over FaceTime. Over the next weeks and months during the pandemic, the three of us would groan, squat, and lift weights together. After our workouts, we would joke about the usual stuff: sore muscles, our plans for the day, who deserved the “Most Hated Day” label and why.

The last time we were together was when my mother was dying. I can still see Ruby and Hart anxiously entering her room. Ruby knelt by her bed, while Hart kept her distance; it was unnerving to see my beloved grandmother, always so perfectly groomed, now with her disheveled hair, patchy skin, uneven breathing , hoarse voice. She patted the bed, and Hart sat down first, then lay on the bed next to her. At the funeral, Ruby talked about all the wonderful times they had together. The children were deeply attached to their grandmother; her generosity and interest in their lives were legendary. When Ruby announced that she was gay at our Passover Seder, my mother was the first to respond, “So what!”

Rationally, my sisters and I understood that sometimes people said or did things that triggered us because they were shocked by the extent of our loss—not just Hart and Ruby, but also our mother, who had died two months before the accident. More than a few people said how lucky she was that she had died and had not had to go through the tragic loss of her grandchildren. But they didn’t know how much we needed her, how much Gail especially needed her, and what many didn’t know was that she had also lost a child, a two-year-old girl named Barbara who died of pneumonia. She knew a thing or two about survival.

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