There’s a point in grief where reflection curdles into rumination. The what-ifs look like insight, but most of the time they’re just guilt in disguise.
Tag: family
I Edited a Book So Dad Would Finally Hear Me
I treated Dad like something to be fixed. I thought if I got the words right, he would be too. I didn’t know how to ask, so I wrote it like it was already true.
Permission Over Proof: Cutting Pages, Courting Agents
Small acts of disregard, stacked, become an avalanche. I need permission over proof, to finish editing p.iii, and to get this manuscript in an agent’s hands.
Holding a Firefly: The Chapter That Says Yes
The chapter that undoes me isn’t about loss. It’s joy—a memory glowing after everything fades. Editing it is like holding a firefly without crushing its light.
For the Kids Who Didn’t Win
This isn’t a recovery story. It’s about what’s left for the kids who didn’t win, who loved someone who didn’t make it. We deserve to stop carrying the blame.
2018: the Art of Looking Away
New-gf glow and sun-soaked selfies hid Dad’s first subtle slide. I ignored my gut, but Ch. 19 won’t let me look away from the skid marks I pretended not to see.
I’ll Share, Probably: Smells like ’99
Mom found Dad’s old glove and sent me a picture. Cue memory flood, guilt spiral, and eventual semi-enlightenment. I might even let Libby have it. That’s growth, right?
Mantra, Mother, Mirror: Happy Mother’s Day
2 poems, 1 heartbeat. One traces the compass Mom slipped beneath my ribs; the other salutes Libbs on her 1st Mother’s Day. Love moves down the line, invincible.
Letting Go of the Life I Thought I’d Have
The older we are, the louder that “Shouldn’t I have _ by now?” voice gets. I confront that anxiety on my birthday and find new ways to celebrate myself as I am.
Great Expectations, Realistic Disappointments
I didn’t yet understand that drifting apart was nobody’s fault—so I blamed everyone, myself included, for not living up to impossible expectations.