Uncle James was buried yesterday. He hung on for weeks, and they’d finally moved him to home hospice care just a few days before he passed. At least he wasn’t in pain at the end, and the family did get…
Please Think About Sam
His father died last night. He didn’t want any kind of funeral. We’re going to see his mom.
Poetry: The Blue Bowl
The Blue Bowl –Jane Kenyon From Otherwise: New & Selected Poems Like primitives we buried the cat with his bowl. Bare-handed we scraped sand and gravel back into the hole. They fell with a hiss and thud on his side, on his long red fur, the…
Mine
My pain is mine. My process is mine. My grieving is not about anyone else. I have to process the grief and the pain and the nasty stuff that wells up from time to time. I know from experience that if…