My mom died suddenly yesterday.
I wrote that sentence on the way to Chicago because somebody was trying to confirm plans with me for the following week.
The first answer I gave was, “Works for me I hope.” That was as definite as anything could be. I had not made arrangements yet. Things were fluid. I asked to be pinged again the next morning, when I expected to have final details.
Her name was Gisi Fischer. She was gone, and I was still looking at a calendar built for the week before she died.
There was a board meeting at Reonomy the following Tuesday. I planned to be back for it, but I could not confirm that yet. I did not know what the next few days required or when I would be able to return to New York.
Work did not become unimportant. It just kept sitting there unchanged while everything around it changed. The meetings still had times. People still needed answers. A project discussion and a possible dinner were still waiting for confirmation.
I could not give any of them a real answer.
The practical response was travel first, make arrangements, and update people when I knew more. There was nothing useful in pretending I had a schedule. There was also no reason to explain more than I knew.
So the message stayed short. My mom died suddenly yesterday. I am on my way to Chicago. I hope the plan still works. I have not made arrangements. Things are fluid. Ask me tomorrow.
That was all I could say that morning. No clean handoff between work and family. No prepared version of the next week. Just travel toward Chicago and a calendar that still assumed I would be back at work Tuesday.