In My Adult Life, I Had Spent

The Only Language She Could Speak Was Grief. How Could He Not Know That? Instead, She Said, "i Love You." She Did. She Loved Him. But Even That Didn't Feel Like Anything Anymore.

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

A Sibling Is The Lens Through Which You See Your Childhood.

Time Passes And I Am Still Not Through It. Grief Isn't Something You Get Over. You Live With It. You Go On On With It Lodged In You. Sometimes I Feel Like I Have Swallowed A Pile Of Stones. Grief Makes Me Heavy. It Makes Me Slow. Even On Days When I Laugh A Lot, Or Dance, Or Finish A Project, Or Meet A Deadline, Or Celebrate, Or Make Love, It Is There. Lodged Deep Inside Of Me.

When I Was Seven Years Old, I Fell In Love With A Series Published By Bobbs-merrill Called 'the Childhood Of Famous Americans.' In It, Historical Figures Like Clara Barton, Nancy Hanks, Elias Howe, Patrick Henry, And Dozens More Came To Life For Me As Children.