How are you? How’s your energy this week? It’s normal to feel a bit depleted this time of year. There’s upsettingly less daylight to lure us out of our houses, and a strong urge to cocoon in a pile of warm blankets, tight enough to be snug but just loose enough for one awkwardly protruding hand to clasp a mug of tea or a book.
I tried to write a new post again this week but what with the holidays, panicked Cyber Monday shopping at 11:30pm (not something I’m proud of), grad school applications and interviews, my new job, laundry (never-ending), decorating the house, dishes (our 100 year old house doesn’t have a dishwasher), taking care of the cats, teaching my classes, remembering to shower (don’t even get me started on how long it takes to wash my hair), getting my butt to hot yoga (necessary to combat SAD), staying committed to my volunteer hours, trying to get 8 hours of sleep… it’s a LOT! Your girl needs a break.
While it claims to be most wonderful time of the year (debatable), there’s certainly a strong argument to be made for it being the busiest.
As such, I was feeling guilty about my lackluster recent performance here on Substack. I’m behind on writing, and (even more distressing) behind on reading. I haven’t even responded to comments from last week’s post so if you commented please know that I saw it, I read it, and I was incredibly touched. Truly.
Despite a full-to-bursting schedule, I rushed home from teaching my second class of the day to join my monthly writing group, already embarrassed at how late I was. I tapped my foot impatiently as Zoom loaded (why does it always move so slow when you’re in a hurry?) until finally familiar faces filled my screen, each one looking guiltier than the last. My eyes darted wildly, waiting for someone to say something…
“We haven’t done any writing,” they sheepishly confessed. Relief flooded over me. As it turns out, everyone is behind. And everyone has been feeling guilty about it! I felt simultaneously validated and liberated. Instead of forcing ourselves to write when clearly none of us was in the mood, we spent the entire time chatting and catching up on all things big and small. It was potentially the best hour of my week, simply because it let me know that I am not alone. So if you, too, are feeling horrendously behind, overwhelmed, braindead, exhausted… please know that you’re in very good, very tired company.
While I may not have any brilliant new thoughts to offer you today, I did want to share a very important piece of writing that I did recently: my grandma’s obituary.
A few days before my Grandma Jill passed, while we were in preparation, my mom asked me if I’d be willing to write my grandma’s obituary. I immediately said yes. It felt like the perfect way to honor her, as well as process my own grief.
The official obituary will be published in the Los Angeles Times this Sunday, December 8th but I wanted to share it here with you all. Writing it was incredibly cathartic and brought me so much joy in remembering all the details of her life. She feels nearly impossible to capture on paper, but I’ve done my best.

Mary Jill Comsa
October 12, 1940 - November 22, 2024
In loving memory of Mary Jill Comsa (née Curran), fondly known to her family as Aunt Jill, Gram Cracker, and Goofy Gram, who left this world on Friday, November 22, 2024. The daughter of Kathryn Mae Fitzgerald and Leo Thomas Curran, Jill was born October 12th, 1940 in Los Angeles, California. As the eldest daughter, she deeply loved and cared for her younger sisters: Peggy and Carol. She attended Mark Keppel High School, class of 1958, where she met her closest friends, a group of 12 women affectionately nicknamed “The Dragon Ladies” who would remain cherished friends all their lives.
Jill is survived by her two children, Daniel and Kelly, along with four grandchildren and one great-grandchild. In addition to her own family, Jill was a mother-figure and role model to many; everyone that she came in contact with was struck by her warmth and zest for life. People naturally gravitated towards Jill, drawn in by her bright light. She always had a hug and a smile for you, and her giggle was contagious. Jill was also incredibly generous, always giving to others even when she had little of her own. While she wrote the very best cards, she was a comically bad gift giver, something her family grew to appreciate and will be sincerely missed. She had a special way of making everyone feel loved.
Fiercely independent, Jill built a successful career in telecommunication sales, where she was continuously the top sales leader in a male-dominated field, all the while sporting her signature red nails and matching red lipstick. But Jill was hardly all work, no play. She loved to play, and she was very good at it! Anytime you were with Jill you were having fun. Happy to sit and play slots at the casino for hours, she loved to gamble and play cards. She would want you to know that she was a decorated poker champion, although her family would warn you she cheated regularly. Jill was also a huge football fan, especially her beloved Seattle Seahawks. Barbara Streisand and Elizabeth Taylor were her idols and she loved musicals, or anything that involved singing or dancing.

Described by those who knew her as “vibrant, colorful, special, and one-of-a-kind,” Jill was not afraid to stand out. She was a fan of bright colors, feathers, and anything sparkly, and always managed to look glamorous and fabulous, with her hair perfectly done and her jewelry and shoes color-coordinated. Her flamboyant style was a match to her dazzling personality. When she later worked at Chico’s she was once again their top salesperson, giving women the confidence to embrace their most sparkly selves. She had that kind of effect on people. When you were around Jill, you couldn’t help but shine too.
It’s no surprise Jill was the life of the party. Especially if that party involved cake (or ice cream, or cookies). She had a massive sweet tooth and was an excellent baker, particularly her famous cheesecake recipe. The secret? Full fat. In her opinion, everything was better with butter, even donuts. She was also a talented seamstress, recreating every single Disney princess costume for her enamored granddaughter. But Jill’s greatest talent might have been her storytelling; she could entertain you with stories about her childhood and the family history for hours. She was deeply proud of our family lineage and her Irish Catholic heritage and traveled to Ireland several times, tracing the family lines back through the generations. As the matriarch of our family, she united us all and instilled in us her enthusiasm for life, her love of fun and her generosity of spirit.
Today, we are united in our love for her and in our sorrow at her passing. But Jill was larger than life, and her legacy will continue to shine on through all who knew her.









There’s a lot more I want to say about death and grief and the specific, unbridled joy of a grandparent-grandchild relationship, but we’ll save that for another day.
Until next time, thank you for being here.
After my eyes stopped watering (I’m not saying crying) I was intermittently able to read a section at a time. I feel so lucky to have known her, even just a little. I think we must have shared some unknown space … colors, beads, bracelets, red. I wish I’d know she made her bracelets. We could have beaded together.
Being able to write such a beautiful piece about your grandmother … I could feel the bond between you from your writing. And I know how special that bond was. I feel like I loved her thru you ❤️
I'm so sorry for your loss, Alexa. 🤍 Your grandmother sounds like a spectacular person, how special you got to write her obituary to commemorate her.
I also completely hear you on the busyness of the season. It seems like there's always a lot to do in such a short span of time. That's exciting you're applying to grad school!! I've been toying with that same thought. What are you thinking of studying?