Maybe, over time, the ephemera of Jack’s life will become less explosive, like a landmine whose triggering mechanism has eroded, rendering it harmless.
My heart’s deepest desire was to see my mother again, yes, but also to glimpse a portrait of normalcy that I had never known in the years of her illness.
I wonder a lot about you. Like what your name would have been if you stayed, at least a week or two until your naming ceremony was done.
I whisper to my great-grandmother a burden I’d like lifted, one she might take to the next world with her.
I’m stockpiling sweaters because they signify refuge, collecting them like talismans though grief cannot be avoided.
“When your husband is dying and your child is on the cusp of forming actual memories, nothing in the world makes sense.”