Miss the Dead, Not the Living
June 28, 2016
I really miss my dad. Since he passed away suddenly almost four years ago, the grief of losing him has been a constant companion, always lurking just out of sight, waiting
I really miss my dad. Since he passed away suddenly almost four years ago, the grief of losing him has been a constant companion, always lurking just out of sight, waiting
(Original publish date: June 16, 2016) Less than a week ago my phone was on fire. A blog post I’d written on the Stanford rape case had gone fully viral that morning,
49 children were murdered in a night club in Orlando. 49 sons and daughters, carried in the swollen bellies of mothers who waited breathlessly for them to arrive. 49 nurseries prepared
One morning last year I woke up and was told I was trending on Facebook. A day earlier I’d written a blog post response to the father of a college student
I really miss my dad. Since he passed away suddenly almost four years ago, the grief of losing him has been a constant companion, always lurking just out of sight, waiting
(Original publish date: June 16, 2016) Less than a week ago my phone was on fire. A blog post I’d written on the Stanford rape case had gone fully viral that morning,
49 children were murdered in a night club in Orlando. 49 sons and daughters, carried in the swollen bellies of mothers who waited breathlessly for them to arrive. 49 nurseries prepared
One morning last year I woke up and was told I was trending on Facebook. A day earlier I’d written a blog post response to the father of a college student