I hate the summer. Too many people have died then. My father, June 8th; my mother, June 10th. Max, my mother’s late-in-life love, who made her feel she was his queen -- he died early June too. I can’t remember if it was the last day of July or the day before, that my husband John spiraled out of the sky. It’s true it was a long time ago, but still, you’d think I’d never forget the date of something like that.