A Sibling Is The Lens Through Which

I Learned To Knit In 2002, Six Months After My 5-year-old Daughter, Grace, Died Suddenly From A Virulent Form Of Strep. I Was Unable To Read Or Write, And Friends Suggested I Take Up Knitting; Almost Immediately I Fell Under Its Spell.

Grief Doesn't Have A Plot. It Isn't Smooth. There Is No Beginning And Middle And End.

I Am The Woman With The Cool Vintage Glasses... I Am The Proud Wife Beside Her Husband... I Am The Writer Who Has Written A New Novel.

Love Is Reliable. Infatuation Is Temporary.

Even Now, There Are Still Days So Beautiful, I Almost Believe In God.