BY THE POPESFOOT

“So, I’m the sixth therapist you’ve met with,” Gwen remarked nonchalantly as she casually glanced over Robin’s intake form. “It’s like trying to find a good barber,” Robin deadpanned, as he studied the woman sitting in front of him, searching for some sign of mirth. Gwen obliged, offering Robin a genuine chuckle; her teeth flashed brilliantly, undoubtedly the result of fastidious dental hygiene practices and an overreliance on teeth whitening kits, Robin surmised. But he genu

“I was quite the baby when we said goodbye,” Robin whispered reverently, as he considered the man lying in the coffin behind his own bleary eyes. You could set your calendar by him, Robin thought to himself, as he remembered Tim’s monthly visits to Robin’s family. Even still, Robin scarcely recognized the man whose formerly tanned skin now lacked all of its characteristic warmth. He needs his sunglasses. He needs his sunglasses, Robin thought with a small smile. That man had

Joyce Irene Barber was a beautiful, vibrant, funny, and caring woman – and she remained such even as she suffered from faltering health...