When things are hard, we all need somebody with whom to talk. Death is hard; there’s no getting around it.…
Sometimes I feel that I am just sitting and watching my surviving parent mourn; whenever I try to help he just wipes away his tears and tries to be strong. How can I help–watching him just make me feel sad and useless?
How do I tell someone that I want to talk? People just assume that I am going to reach out…
In the blurry, awful period immediately after my father died, the house where I’d spent half my life no longer felt like mine. Everything felt too quiet, too still. The lingering air of death and sadness was heavy all around us. The family dogs refused to leave my parents’ bedroom and even the sun seemed reluctant to shine, obscured behind a cloudy snowstorm that lasted all night and the following day.
