-
It Goes On
Read more: It Goes OnWhen I was a child, my father had a darkroom in our basement. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the bitter chemicals and see the reddish light barely illuminating the room. I did not know exactly what he was doing in there, taking paper from one chemical into another and then hanging…
-
Box 17
·
Read more: Box 17Seventeen has always been a significant number in the life of our family. We have had many births, deaths, and significant events involving the number. Your Grandpa went to Vietnam on a 17 and returned on a 17. My Grandpa died on a 17. Your dad was born on a 17 as was I and…
-
The Pile
·
Read more: The PileRight now, at this moment in my life, sweet boy, daring to hope in this despair is the bravest thing I can do.
-
The Wall
·
Read more: The WallI have heard grief described as waves in the ocean, elevators, rubberband balls, and roller coasters. It is all those things at once. Grief isn’t just an analogy. It is raw. It is ruthless. It is reckless. It is my temporary reality. Grief is crying seeing the walls where you made them dirty. I can…
-
Books
·
Read more: BooksGrandma has been cleaning out my closet to make space for your things, sweet boy. I can’t bring myself to let anything of yours go other than your bed. I will sort through your toys and clothes once I am stronger. She found books in a dusty box. Titles like, “Even This”, “Just Enough Light…
