Choosing Life, One Year After the Death of My Daughter

A collection of my first folded cranes (image my own)

Twelve months ago my 15-year-old daughter died, and grief rolled into my life like a thick fog.

Last week, I folded my first crane.

Cranes were our inside joke. Ana learned how to fold them when she was around 11, a skill I greatly admired because I’d never learned. I once asked her to teach me, but she refused. She liked knowing how to do…