Grief’s Corner

I travel between two worlds a hundred times a day — the life that continues forward, and the place where your laughter still rides the currents and fills my heart full.

Sometimes grief isn’t a slow ache; sometimes it’s a sudden, breathless sprint. This piece was written from the raw heat of a chase where I thought, just for the briefest moment, that the world had given Larry back to me.

There are moments that shatter a mother at the cellular level. This piece captures the instant I learned of my son Larry’s death — not through words, but in the devastation written across his father’s face. It is the closest I can come to describing a grief that exists beyond language, beyond breath, beyond what a human heart is built to bear.

Written 07/10/2016 My firstborn of two sons died nine years ago. It was the day after Easter Sunday and the month prior to his 18th birthday. Without warning and within moments our lives were unequivocally altered. We were pummeled to our knees, bloodied and broken by the happenstances of life. He died within 20 feet…