Adieu
There is no poetry I can borrow, no profound prose I could come up with that can articulate the sorrow with which I write this newsletter.
In the early hours of Thursday the 27th of November, my mother died.
There will be so much to process, to write, to share, to grieve, but for now, this announcement is all I can manage.
In the future I will arrange a celebration in her honor, but on these chilly December days, I must tend to the drudgery of legal details, the Herculean task of finding new homes for decades’ collections of books, anthropologists’ notes, maps, and the clutter we collect in this brief time we spend on our little blue marble.
In this time must also learn to care for myself and Lily, the small, aged, and now grieving dog— before planning the next phase of my own life.
In lieu of flowers, you may honor Coca by donating to the causes and organizations she supported for so long. This link to support our Public Media will lead you to support specific stations that have lost their funding (some in rural areas have lost up to 91% of their funding) and are in dire need of assistance to provide essential content to their communities. (The significance and necessity for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting is really well articulated in this report by John Oliver.)
Coca tried to support as many organizations as she could, which is why we will be receiving junk mail until the end of time, but two others were most important to her: the American Association of University Women was one, and The Nature Conservancy was another. However, 2025 brought so many new reasons to donate to the American Civil Liberties Union, they became this year’s top priority.
I would also invite you to email me with your own thoughts, stories, or photos, of Coca. I’ll collect them and we can build a tribute— our own version of an online memorial. If you knew Coca through her work, please forward this to other colleagues. I would love to hear stories of her in the field. I miss that brain of hers and would love to hear your memories of her.
From the day Coca came home from hospital and we began hospice (the essay on that is here) we had 66 days together. Each one was difficult in different ways, but I worked to make it silly and lighter. She said she wasn’t afraid of dying, she was just done here, and she also knew that her leaving, released me of my filial duties to her, and this house, allowing me to begin new chapters, albeit ones she will not share with me.
The people with Prisma Hospice were lovely and caring while making Coca comfortable, and guiding me in what to expect as death crept into the house.
To Jennifer, Tracy, Leila, Tammy, Catherine, the friends and family who would check in on us daily, thank you for being there and for all the times you offered to hop on planes to come help, I thank you for being so supportive. I am so rich for being loved by you. And then there is Kimberly— without whom I would have been even more strained, lost and lonely; her family has been tremendously supportive and patient with the time she dedicated to my mother. Your generosity of time and love brought much more joy and life to Coca’s last days than you know.
I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.
At the end of each day, when I would tuck Coca into bed, instead of saying “good night,” we’d borrowed a phrase from the British show The Change, and I would say, “May all your transitions be joyful!”
“And yours as well,” she’d respond.
I do think hers was, and there will be much more to tell you on that… but not yet.
Please take care of yourselves and each other.
Love,
Katia
Terrible news. So sorry for your loss. <3
That was lovely, Katia, as was the photo. At the moment I can't think of anything to say, too recent, too close and too conflicted for me to presume to try.
We'll have time later to reflect on all our years together. For now just know how deep your grief is and will be. The years you spent were more than a mother daughter relation. You had a bond that was more friendly than familial.
For now, take care of yourself and the little one now. See you soon. Love, D