Category: bereaved parents
-
It’s Susanna’s birthday today. She was born sixteen years ago, during a deep freeze and snowstorm. The pipes froze while she was arriving, but the iron boiler installed in the kitchen of our new basementless home chugged on. The ice clogs within the pipes dissolved soon after, and Cesar washed the pile of dishes…
-
photo of Susanna, April, 2014 April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. from The Waste Land by T.S. Elliot I miss Susanna in the sunshine. I miss her in the rain. I miss her in the snow. I miss her in…
-
This photo just popped up from my cloud: Susanna, in a red and white gingham dress, was talking to a sheep. Speckled beige wool poked through a wire cage at the Prospect Park Zoo. We had just fed the ducks and chickens. Over and over, we dropped quarters upon quarters into the corn and…
-

Essence was going to be an angel for Halloween. She had several costumes this year, some for parties that happened on other days preceding. Her mother had hesitated to buy more than one costume, worrying this might be excessive. But she bought more, for her little girl, who was deeply loved. One costume was a…
-

The veil is thin, October, and I am surrounded by mist. I can sometimes feel droplets, the atmosphere is cool and blurry. My awareness vacillates, I can be here or somewhere else. Susanna’s death, now years ago, pushed me toward an edge which became my home. Life/death, death/life, this blurry line is home. My…
-
I have COVID-19. I cannot prove it, I am not eligible for a test, but I am certain beyond a reasonable doubt. I am one of the approximately eighty percent recovering at home with no test. So grateful that this is so. This is the story. I felt it best to share this, as I…