Navigating The Landscape Of Parental Grief
“What if you knew you’d be the last to touch someone? if you were taking tickets, for example, at the theater, tearing them, giving back the ragged stubs, you might take care to touch that palm, brush your fingertips along … Read More »
“Last evening from the table we saw the owl, huge in the dusk, circling the field on owl-silent wings, The first one ever seen here: now it’s gone, a dream you just remember” from Korean Mums by James Schuyler
This is the first day of the most terrible week. But it’s also the week that all of you who loved Ana will be thinking of her, missing her, and reminding me that her life, no matter how fleeting, had … Read More »
As many of you know, March 22nd will be the one year anniversary of Ana’s death. One year. It’s amazing how many shapes grief takes over the course of a year. I could write about it forever, but for once … Read More »
I shouldn’t hate March, but I do. This trickster of months promises spring, then takes it away, dumping another foot of thick snow, like clumps of brown sugar, onto overburdened branches. I shouldn’t hate March, except two days after winter, … Read More »
She’s not coming back. At first, I counted her death in days, then weeks, then months—soon it will be years. I marked each turn of the moon with small changes, tears, and disbelief that another month had passed. I observed … Read More »
I wrote this in November, but it feels like a hundred years ago. I’ve burned through all of Ana’s candles by now, except for the biggest pillars and some votives. This makes my heart hurt a little bit, but it … Read More »
Cousin Chloe, Ana & Emily (ages 7,6 and 3) Emily performed in her eighth grade play yesterday, in the small performing arts center (lovingly dubbed “The PAC”) where I’ve been watching performances for the last 11 years. Ana was six … Read More »
It will be ten months tomorrow. Ten months. I remember everything about Ana’s last January. By then we knew she was dying, but we didn’t know how to say goodbye. I wish I could fast forward through the next two … Read More »
They’re waiting for me when I wake up every morning, perched in the Yew tree where the feeders hang. I wonder if the neighbors notice their chatter. “Of course they do,” she whisers. “No one likes the birds but you.” … Read More »