In that sense, we’re still haunted.
In other words, the suburbs are equated with whiteness because they were designed to be.
In our constrained culture where public, raw grief is not socially acceptable, I fear that grief stories are being asked to do too much.
My father has been gone for so long now. There’s nothing for me to escape anymore. I read his book to try to believe him again.
My mother’s body, one in a million, became a conduit for lightning, and, three months later, it became a conduit for me.
Naturally, the first person I wrote about was my mother.