Nor can we know ahead of the fact (and here lies the heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is) the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself.

—Joan Didion

Back in May, my mother and I celebrated the premiere of Chamoe, an animated short film about love and motherhood that we’d collaborated on.

I never imagined that, just months later, I’d be writing this.

My sweet, gentle mother became depressed over the summer, and has now progressed into psychosis. She was involuntarily committed by police on the 2nd of this month, deemed a danger to herself and others.

Our father was in an accident the day after she was taken into custody. He was cleared from the ER that night, walking out on his own. Two days later, he died.

Everything bad that could happen has been happening. Very fast, and all at once. We’re in shock. And we’ve not had a moment to mourn.

Mom was discharged a week ago but her condition has deteriorated to such an extent that she now needs constantly supervision. She’s become a completely different, often aggressive, person. My sisters and I think anxiety around finances and the pressures of being a caretaker for our dad for almost a decade contributed to the deterioration of her mental health. We’re working around the clock to tend to her; figure out her mental and physical health needs; finances; government aid; our father’s return to earth; the future of her care.

So much remains uncertain and overwhelming.

We launched a GoFundMe this past Saturday. You can help by amplifying on Twitter or Instagram. If you received an email, feel free to forward.

Thanks for any help you might be able to give.

Deepest gratitude to folks who’ve already donated, shared our story, and sent kind words. My sisters and I are moved by your generosity and support.

Here’s to better days.