But When My Mother Died, I Found

Grief Is At Once A Public And A Private Experience. One's Inner, Inexpressible Disruption Cannot Be Fully Realized In One's Public Persona.

Writing Has Always Been The Primary Way I Make Sense Of The World.

I Think About My Mother Every Day. But Usually The Thoughts Are Fleeting - She Crosses My Mind Like A Spring Cardinal That Flies Past The Edge Of Your Eye: Startling, Luminous, Lovely... Gone.

Loss Is So Paradoxical: It Is At Once Enormous And Tiny.

It's A Blessing Not To Be Alone In Your Grief But It's Also Painful To See Your Parents And Siblings In Pain.