Tagged death

Morning glories

A percolating coffee pot sounds a lot like a person dying of lung cancer trying to breathe. I made this analogy at age 8, sitting in my aunt Sally’s apartment in Springfield, Missouri, surrounded by depressed relatives. “What’s that bubbling sound? It sounds like Granny Anne.” I was just being honest. She died that night…

Plunge

When she goes between worlds, so do you. This is where I live. ❖ In the days weeks months after my mother dies, the ocean calls. I am to be reverse-born, back into waters. In the true middle of the Pacific Ocean, there is an ancient green rock that juts out, bearing life on its…

In Defense of Grief

I dreamed about Ella last night. I knew I hadn’t seen her lately, and I felt vaguely guilty, wondering if I had been neglecting her. She hopped onto my lap and I ran my fingers over her white, satiny fur. She lifted her face, nose and ears the color of pink ballet slippers, and wild…