Family | Grief

My Mother Has Terminal Cancer, and I Can’t Seem to Stop Buying Sweaters

I’m stockpiling sweaters because they signify refuge, collecting them like talismans though grief cannot be avoided.

My mother is always cold. Growing up, we would tease her about this, my father, sisters, and me. We lived in Virginia Beach, where the air slumps, moist and warm, and where the mere sight of a snowflake triggers citywide dread. What’s more, Mom spent the first two decades of her life in Connecticut and Pennsylvania—surely the tepid winters of coastal Virginia could not perturb her.

photo of the author and her mother