Note in Berkeley

As I watched my mother's last breath, I saw the final oxygenated memories of my father fade from my reflection.  Her eyes were like glass.  the mirror was gone.  and I saw the beginning of my own life through her frame.  The fibers of my muscles, my tissue, my heart.  If there was ever a question of whether or not I was still on that island, it had been destroyed by the tidal wave of her death.