Skateboarding Gave Me a Way to Express My Grief
Yes, this system is imperfect. It took years—and the privilege of professional help—before I’d learn to articulate my grief in words.
I bet grandpa’s columbarium would grind so good
Cole Nowicki is a writer and generally well-mannered person based in Vancouver, BC. His work has appeared in The Walrus, Maisonneuve, McSweeney’s, Peach Mag, and more. He also produces the interdisciplinary event 'fine.' and publishes its print extension 'fine. press'.
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More in this series
Love and Grief at the Edge of the Marsh
“When your husband is dying and your child is on the cusp of forming actual memories, nothing in the world makes sense.”
The World Loses Its Former Shape: Caught in the Undertow of Grief
I whisper to my great-grandmother a burden I’d like lifted, one she might take to the next world with her.
Three Generations of Elizabeths, Breast Cancer, and Self-Preservation
When your maternal grandmother dies from breast cancer, there’s this strange intersection between her health and your mother’s health and yours.