I did a very silly thing just now.
It has been almost a year and a half since I last wrote on this blog. In my mind, this blog was complete. And yet, there was a lack of finality to it. Grief has no finality, though it does have evolution and change, while this blog does have finality simply because...
On the eve of your death I am watching town fireworks the day after the fourth of July. I am overwhelmed by the crowd of families around us on blankets with glo-sticks and cotton candy as we wait for darkness in the still, hot, summer air. There is a Korean...
This is the third time. It is brutal.I haven't felt it helpful or complex enough to say, "It's not fair; it's just not fair," in the past three years. But on this day, I think those words a lot. Unless your young child has lost a parent, you cannot imagine...
My sister called me using my mom's cell phone. I was at work, and picked up my cell to answer and when I saw "Mom's Cell" and her picture as the incoming call, I just about fell out of my chair.
It wasn't fun…
I emailed my dead grandmother when I found out I got accepted into my doctoral program. I really hoped they had email in heaven.
Nearly six months after my father died, someone began calling my cell phone from the number my father had used. The first time I saw "Dad Cell" come up on my phone, I felt this strange slipping of time, as if the universe was off its axis. Finally, I answered.
"Someone from this number keeps calling me!" the man said.
I never once dialed that number.
After that call, I decided it was time to erase the number from my contacts. It was my father speaking to me, I felt.
It was one of the hardest, saddest things I ever had to do.
I found you from the NY Times. I can't stop reading your blog. Your words offer me some glimpse into what my mother experienced when she lost her husband of 37 years, my dad.
I wish I could reach through the screen and hold you, just hold you and shush you and listen to you.
My prayers are with you and your daughter.