My New York City apartment ceased being a happy place after my partner died. Over the years, and especially during this pandemic, my second home became my salvation.
While we’re 'all in this together,' my experience is very much my own. Here's how I am learning to navigate the space between personal and collective grief.
A modest surprise inheritance from my late husband allows me to raise my two young kids without having to go to work. So why do I feel so guilty about it?
My husband's hands were the cool compress that soothed my migraines. After his opiate overdose, I'm struggling to replace his healing touch with my own.
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