BY SUSAN ESTRICH It has a way of sneaking up on me, like the unhappy anniversary it is. Who knew? The first March 7 was a Monday. I was a law student, and my father died in a hospital bed where he had been hovering between life and death for 10 terrible days. Terrible for us, anyway. By the end, he was somewhere else. The second March 7 came 23 years later, of all things, […]
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