“Do you ever visit your mother’s grave?” she asked. The question surprised me. “No. Not for a long time.” Something about it, here in this place, made me feel guilty. “What was her name?” “Louise. Louise Stanley. Why?” “I read this thing. I think it was the ancient Egyptians. They believed you died twice. First when you died, and second when people stopped saying your name. So, then. Louise Stanley.”
