Back home in Chicago, my parents grew old. I didn’t see this happening and neither did they. They were busy birdwatching, attending new plays, trying new restaurants. Our relationship had mellowed and warmed with time. But then my father, my sweet, strong, and only father—he began to die, and then he died. Words that still don’t sound true five yea... See more

Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how'.

For #smallpoemsunday, one from @andreagibson - a helpful reminder of trickier days https://t.co/TJSK41uAK7

Parents often say, “I’d die for my child.” I heard a few of the parents in the grief group express the wish to trade places with their deceased children—to die so their children could live. After the war, I felt the same way. I would have gladly died to bring my parents and grandparents back.

But now I know that instead of dying for my dead, I can l

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