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March 28, 2015
She sat with me in the steam room at the Alaska Club, an angel of mercy that I couldn’t really see through eyes strained and space misty. Originally from a village in Western Alaska, she was no stranger to grief, and it showed in her compassion toward me. I had just come from across town, where I was collecting my son’s belongings at the place he had been staying. Two days after his death, his landlord called to say we owed them $1500. I didn’t know he was behind on rent. Read full article