How a 4th grade science project taught me to write about the moon. October 1, 2010 | 3:30 pm | Last Quarter Phase My daughter arrives home from school with a slim notebook covered with photos that represent the night — owls, a gibbous moon cut from white paper, a…

On having faith, and giving permission to let go — “How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again.” — Henry Scott Holland Dear Mom, The light is different here. If you saw how this place shines, I think you’d stop worrying about me. The light connects the landscape to every part of itself. It moves…

According to the American Cancer Society, about 600 adolescents, aged 15 to 19, die from cancer each year. In 2017, my daughter, Ana, was one of them. Ana was sick for four and a half years. During most of that time, even as her cancer progressed, I didn’t think that…

An American Fairy Tale — My new government-issue healthcare card arrives promptly two days before Christmas on December 23rd, 2022. It looks like a driver’s license, but there’s no photo. Just my name and an ID number that will stay with me until I die. The crisp image of a bald eagle superimposed over a…

We all want to be seen, even Grief. Especially Grief. — Grief stands beside me while I light a candle. She watches my gaze shift from the flame to the window so I can watch the birds in my yard. …

Tears and cookies. That’s what the holidays have become. — It’s been over 15 years since I popped the very first batch of cookies into the oven. My daughter Ana was in second grade. It was the same year I threw myself into volunteering at her school. I was the class parent that year and had to be present for…

It hurts when someone offers up advice that’s impossible to follow. — There is a common theme that comes up, like clockwork, in the grief support groups I belong to online. Someone will describe an encounter they had with a friend or family member or even a trusted therapist — a person who generally has the griever’s best interest at heart. …

If the last year has taught me anything, it’s that our bodies are capable of staggering unpleasantness — At birth, babies with ovaries already have all the eggs their body will ever produce. Technically, these aren’t eggs. They’re oocytes — immature eggs. We start out with a couple million oocytes (give or take), more than half of which will die by the time we hit puberty. Don’t worry…

The hard work of carrying grief during the holidays. — There’s nothing quite like the holidays to remind one of the stark passage of time. At least, that’s what I kept thinking on Thanksgiving as I cleaned my house in preparation for hosting our first dinner since 2019. …