There is some. Finally. My heart has been constricted for so long that it feels rather foreign to have air around my thoughts. Grief is a lot of work and takes up a great deal of space. But some has been cleared. This last month was an emotional sprint towards the one-year anniversary of mom’s(…)

I’ve been working on a children’s book about loss and grief. It features beloved objects that become separated from their owners and won’t be coming back. The book will explain to a young person, in metaphor, where someone goes when they die. How those left behind can cope with the journey of grief and come(…)

Terrible stories are everywhere it seems. Stage 4 cancer at age 40, hit by a car while buying cookies at the local bakery, aneurism on the golf course. Sick kids, sick spouses, sick parents. Mental and physical illness. Accidents. Last week I received shocking and sad news about a former boss. She died at 45(…)

It’s the month of Mother’s Day. Of mom’s birthday. And the month before the month of the anniversary of her death. In my mind, a year is the amount of time I’m supposed to spend grieving and then sort of be done with it already. Which I know is preposterous. But still, I’m watching May(…)

She hung her “Judi” key on this hook, lay down in this bed, showered and dried herself with these towels in this bathroom. It’s impossible not to feel her in this place. Her tics and habits are ground into this apartment, layered like a collage. In this kitchen she insisted on wiping a glass table(…)