some flee but none escape. g-ma rose fled ukraine 100 some years ago. she ended up in san rafael looking at a small mountain through sliding glass doors, hiding in plain sight in a catholic home for the elderly. i saw her die and the moth decal on the glass flutter in shadow on her headboard. there's no difference between life and death but struggle. i watched her struggle end. dad came late, then, and his struggle too ended. they as far as we can see are in a better place than the previous life.