We weren’t exactly rewriting our family traditions, but it felt good knowing that there was still a place for me in them.
There is no guidebook or set of rules for us to follow; there is no concrete “American” etiquette around death.
I wish I could talk to my mom about the irony that, forty years later, shelves are being ransacked and we are standing in lines to buy bread.
I pray my baby will love their body, or at least accept it, and carry it around the world, just as I have carried them too, with pride and joy.
Naz Riahi reflects on how the violent death of her father when she was a young girl impacted the rest of her life
The life of my Lolo and my family in the Philippines is a deep reminder that people live full lives there and places like it, across the globe.
I’ve read that trauma disrupts time. That violent events are recorded differently in the brain.
Everyone talks about sea levels and temperatures rising, but there’s also the more tangible inevitability of the soil running out.
I remember the day Mom said “stage IV metastatic,” so now I need a show with forty seasons.
Our son will grow up without grandmas, but we want him to remember these wonderful women he’ll never get the chance to meet.