ABSTRACT
Little by little, flashes of recognition will begin to intrude. At a certain point, I suddenly recalled hearing Cathy's voice as she used to respond when I answered the phone. (She usually called on a Friday night.) Not "Hello, Mom," but "Mom? Hi!" That was the beginning of the recall of the physical reality of my daughter, the Cathy who was healthy and vivacious in the days before her illness. I forced myself to reconstruct that greeting, over and over. Then I would say, ''Yes, I remember her. I remember her voice." And I was momentarily comforted.
