It happens like this: We do not see the thing for what it is until it is no more. It can happen so quickly: News of another person’s death distills the color and lines of the small band of people who surround your life, bringing their clarity into focus. Perhaps you pull them closer to… Continue reading A Tribute to Charlie Trotter
Category: Grief
Memoriam
May eighth, you come without notice. After three years, you would think I would be mindful of your coming and yet you come and you take. A week ago, I greeted May, all bustle and business until it stopped me and put me in my place- the clock is ticking. You will soon be here… Continue reading Memoriam
Good Friday Poetry: Myopia
I’ve been thinking about death for the past few weeks. Lest you think this is stemming from some sort of morbidity on my part, it’s been a dose of digging deep into the passage of John 19 for guidance in writing a poem I read aloud today at a Good Friday service. Culturally speaking, Good… Continue reading Good Friday Poetry: Myopia
Sally’s Pumpkin Bread and #HatDay
Today: Sally’s first anniversary. Tuesday: Tio Z’s second anniversary. Sunday: a friend’s grandfather’s passing. This week is mired in remembrances of lives well lived and yet also, death pocking the days. It’s a curious thing trying to accept our own mortality, isn’t it? It’s an incredible thing to think of death as a gift, which… Continue reading Sally’s Pumpkin Bread and #HatDay
A Day of Remembrance
Memorial
May his memory be a blessing. In my heart, a yahrzeit candle burns, two years later. You go to bury the dead. You put something dead into a still living soil. And what if you planted something real and still waiting for its blooming- What if you look for a way to keep the memorial… Continue reading Memorial
A wedding and a funeral
Good grief. Do you know the sensation of being emotionally spent? I am taking the week off to reflect on this past weekend. There was a wedding. There was a funeral. There were snippets of Portlandia watched to round out the heaviness with the absurdity of a micro-culture under scrutiny. I returned from Denver with… Continue reading A wedding and a funeral
a retrospective and a pot of soup
“I’m moving to India.” Over in his swivel back chair, my father leaned back watching my face for translation cues, his eyes intent upon my own. Among the seven languages he could speak sometimes one of them was not Annelies. I hurried on in a torrent of words to back up this proclamation, to buoy… Continue reading a retrospective and a pot of soup
After-thought
I’m cooking up some roasted cauliflower with paprika, crushed sea salt and pepper in oil. On the stovetop, a pan is sizzling with yukon gold slices, Spanish onion and garlic. Next up, swiss chard. And in my ears, Mumford and Sons. And I feel like I owe you an explanation. You come here regularly or… Continue reading After-thought
In a pickle
Being an only child, you learn early on to pay attention, to forage for details of your family’s past. You know you alone bear the weight of carrying those stories forward. You marvel at a society’s ability to pass down story from person to person, realizing that it is it’s own form of literacy and… Continue reading In a pickle
Finding My Voice
Olga once told me the worst thing you can do when you lose your voice is to whisper. Instead, she said, you should either stay silent or try to talk normally so as not to damage the vocal chords. Clearly over the past year, I chose silence. Just like talking about losing my voice found… Continue reading Finding My Voice
Losing My Voice
Grief does weird things to a person. You don’t exactly know the when or the where, but you know to take this visitor at its word, when it says it will drop by. Right after my dad’s funeral, people kindly sent emails, texts and phone calls. In the void and silence not to be filled,… Continue reading Losing My Voice