After Mom Di3d, My Sister-IN-Law Became Obsessed With Taking Her Old Freezer, and the Reason Left Me Stunned

“You. Your brother. Vanessa. The kids. Whoever needs it.”

“Whoever?”

Mom tapped the spoon against the rim of the pot.

“There’s always somebody who needs soup, Bethie.”

That was Dorothy Larsen.

My mother.

Seventy-four years old, barely five-foot-one, with snow-white hair she still curled every Saturday night and reading glasses hanging from a beaded chain around her neck because otherwise she’d lose them somewhere ridiculous.

Usually the refrigerator.