My mom died on January 27, 2020. Grief is a strange experience. Grief is also NOT linear. Even though she has been gone for three years, there are still memories of her that appear at random times, popping to the top of my consciousness like errant butterflies flitting across a garden full of flowers waving in the breeze. That’s her in the picture—the brunette nestled next to her dad. She was the elder of two “oops babies” that arrived when…..
The picture above is of me at approximately 29 years old. Two of my daughters are with me outside the daily newspaper where I worked—my oldest daughter is probably inside the building, chatting up the reporters in the newsroom. My youngest daughter recently posted it on her Instagram (she’s the baby in the picture). She is currently 29; her older sisters 30 and 34, respectively. What follows is a bit of introspection and work-in-progress exposition for my next book. I…..