“Well, Flitter.”

A week ago Sunday, my mom called with the news: Nanny has died. We knew it was coming; in fact, we were kinda praying it would happen quickly. A few months go, as her memory was betraying her more than ever, we got to FaceTime. And while she was lucid and engaged, she cybermet my son, her namesake, Davis Fielden. Several weeks later she met him in person, but by then she was pretty confused. So when mom called to tell me the news of her passing, I wasn’t surprised. But I was surprisingly sad. No matter how much you expect death, it still stinks. With Taylor at a conference for…