A Missing Book- Found Friends
Here's a link to an essay I am working on.
Items lost
Link
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Some unedited thoughts about grief. My grief. Putting it here so I'll continue to work on it.
I’ve been trying to write about grief and about losing my mother. The words we choose are so strange. Losing. I didn’t LOSE her the way you lose a cardigan when you are too drunk to remember to take it off the back of your chair when you leave the bar. I was there. I saw her go. I know that she is gone. GONE. Another one. Is she GONE? I don’t know. She could be sitting right next to me, but her physical self is no longer here. I can’t hold her hand. I can hope for one more quick smile. When you comfort me… don't say RELIEF… as in IT MUCH BE SUCH A RELIEF. don't say BETTER PLACE. don't say I MEAN AFTER ALL YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH... It robs me of my loss and of my grief. You are trying to make yourself feel better maybe by trying to imagine that her death doesn't hurt as much as you think it might. Your desire to ...
The Glaring Chapter Six
I tried to push aside my emotions—to look at the photo objectively and see what was really there not what I was afraid was there. I wouldn’t let my mind play tricks on me. I took a deep breath and squinted at the photo in Chris’s hand. To the right of the trunk, Chris and Andi, dressed bunched in their arms, were doubled over, laughing. To the left, Becca posed behind the pink meringue, lips pursed like a fashion model. I leaned toward her, grinning, the slinky, green dress held up to my shoulders and my left leg kicking wonkily out to one side. All that was perfectly normal. Behind the trunk…someone… peeked over the open lid. The pattern fabric covering the inside of the top almost looked like a dress she wore. I blinked. “Is it just a smudge? Or a fingerprint?” Andi shook her head. “I see a face. Eyes and a nose. Hair even. I think she’s…smiling.” Chris studied the picture then looked over it and...
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