A curious wind enough to tip a vessel the morning you left.
What May 21 means in my life
Sometimes sadness feels happy. Sometimes sadness keeps my head. Sometimes it helps me get by. Bouncing Souls I was putting my son to bed last night, when he paused from reading his book A House for Hermit Crab by Eric…
In thinking about my death, I turned to my tombstone. Pretty much everybody gets an inscription of some sort. How terrible would it be for your inscription to read: Here lies someone serious. Pretty terrible.
Something kids of dead parents know is this: it gets better, but only when you accept the pain and look the suffering in the eye and ask, “What do you want me to know? What is it you want me…
Shortly after my dad died, I began sleepwalking and experiencing night terrors. Then my dad appeared to me in a dream.
The ancient Stoics believed that to live one’s life to the fullest, to truly appreciate those you love and your own life, contemplating death was necessary.
The year was 1997. I sat in the backseat of a tiny Toyota Corolla with my perfumed, slightly purpled hair Granny Hamlett as my neighbor. She was seated directly behind my dad at the wheel whose eyes searched for fellow road warriors and interstate truckers to shake his head at.