After My Son’s Suicide, I’m Learning to Navigate Emotional Minefields in My Home
Maybe, over time, the ephemera of Jack’s life will become less explosive, like a landmine whose triggering mechanism has eroded, rendering it harmless.
that’s okay, you managed to do ityou couldn’t possibly have slept in the house where you heard that gunshot, ran up those stairs, and found your son lifeless on his bed just hours earlier.
What must it be like to live only in the present
Pieces in Aeon, Salon, The Atlantic, Audubon, etc. Author of several narrative nonfiction books including The Notorious Reno Gang (Lyons Press) and Falconer on the Edge (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt). MFA in Creative Nonfiction from Goucher College
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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.”
On Loving a Sibling I’ve Never Met
I wonder a lot about you. Like what your name would have been if you stayed, at least a week or two until your naming ceremony was done.
Ghosts Scattered Among the Stars and My Father’s Ashes in the Ganga
On space debris and a father's remains.