When Your Loved One Dies Again
June 13, 2015
My father died today. This wasn’t the first time, though. I initially lost him almost twenty months ago, and when the news first reached me it literally brought me to my
My father died today. This wasn’t the first time, though. I initially lost him almost twenty months ago, and when the news first reached me it literally brought me to my
For most people Father’s Day is made of sugary sweetness; of crayon-adorned cards and handmade gifts, of close embraces and tender words, ugly ties and lazy lunches and unapologetic kisses. For most people it is
That phrase. We’ve all received it personally gift-wrapped by well-meaning friends, caring loved ones, and kind strangers. It usually comes delivered with the most beautiful of intentions; a buffer of hope raised in
Mother’s Day. For many people that means flowers and handmade cards and Sunday brunches and waves of laughter. It means celebration and gratitude and warm embraces and great rejoicing. It means
My father died today. This wasn’t the first time, though. I initially lost him almost twenty months ago, and when the news first reached me it literally brought me to my
For most people Father’s Day is made of sugary sweetness; of crayon-adorned cards and handmade gifts, of close embraces and tender words, ugly ties and lazy lunches and unapologetic kisses. For most people it is
That phrase. We’ve all received it personally gift-wrapped by well-meaning friends, caring loved ones, and kind strangers. It usually comes delivered with the most beautiful of intentions; a buffer of hope raised in
Mother’s Day. For many people that means flowers and handmade cards and Sunday brunches and waves of laughter. It means celebration and gratitude and warm embraces and great rejoicing. It means