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.”
More in this series
I’m stockpiling sweaters because they signify refuge, collecting them like talismans though grief cannot be avoided.
Maybe, over time, the ephemera of Jack’s life will become less explosive, like a landmine whose triggering mechanism has eroded, rendering it harmless.