Personal Essays

My Wife and I Had a Twinless Twin

By

Welcoming our healthy daughter meant grieving her identical sister.

Revisiting the Track after My Father’s Death

By

I'd abandoned the 440-yard loop long ago. Returning to it allowed me to begin grieving my father's death.

Coming to Terms

By

The simple phrase suggests contracts and litigation. For me, it's a complex, daily practice in grieving my son's death from Tay-Sachs.

Leaning In, My Way

By

I dove into back into work after my daughter was born. As a motherless mother, I soon realized I'd made the wrong choice.

Back in the Saddle Again

By

My teenaged son stored his bike after a friend's fatal riding accident. One year on, I still wanted to hold onto him tight but was also ready for him to move forward.

Stuck in My Throat

By

I don’t have many regrets. But not thanking the man so influential in my early adulthood is a big one.

Picture Imperfect

By

The day after a dear friend's death, I captured on camera my first 24 hours without her.

Store Credit

By

In the aftermath of my husband's death, my friends bought me potted plants. I promptly returned them — unable to contemplate caring for another living thing. Fourteen years on, what would it mean to use my credit at the florist?

Divorce as Primer

By

I became a divorcée at 29. Months later, my mother suddenly died. The isolation I felt after my marriage ended gave me the tools to deal with her loss.

Land of Enchantment

By

After my ex-boyfriend's death, would returning to our New Mexico — where we had shared a life — unleash my grief?

The Half Life of Love

By

Our first real date was on Valentine’s Day 10 years ago. Many times in the five years since my partner died, I’ve flashed back to that day when we became, officially, more than just friends.

A Day for Lovers, Without Mine

By

On my first Valentine’s Day without Evelyn, I spent hours paging through old photographs. Those pictures speak to our love and her resolve, but they don’t tell the whole story.

No Man’s Land

By

Between the time we decided to stop treatment and the time my baby son died, I felt desperately alone — pulled between my ‘cancer family’ still fighting to save their children and the bereaved families on the other side of this battle.

test

Missing Dad on Super Bowl Sunday

By

I could care less about football, but my late father loved it. And on the weekend of the big game, I feel his absence acutely.

The Voicemail Afterlife

By

My grandma called daily and, I sometimes sent her to voicemail — rationalizing that I was just too busy to pick up. In the wake of her death, I cherish those recordings.

Looking Up at El Capitan

By

Dying while doing what we love is how we’d all like to go out. But as I watched my friends risk everything for the thrill of the climb, I felt compelled to remind them of the difference between challenge and folly.

When Everything Scared Me

By

After my parents died in a plane crash, there was grief, pain and loneliness. But above all, there was fear — until there wasn’t.

Losing Grandma Twice

By

Dementia stole my grandmother long ago, leaving me to mourn her all over again when she died years later.

Older Than She Was

By

I’ve officially lived longer than my mother did. Only now, on the other side, have I come to understand the life she lived.

My First Real World AIDS Day

By

My father died of AIDS 22 years ago. For more than two decades, I avoided World AIDS Day. This year, I'm owning my history. Here's why.

1 … 15 16 17 18 19 … 21