He was the first boy I ever loved, my cousin Randy. Our mothers were sisters and close, and we'd been close since I don't even remember, since I was born. I can still see us in the pool one hot California summer day, I was maybe seven, he nine years old when Randy said he'd …
Tag: grief
Grief Waves
It's probably normal for a coastal-raised child to liken many things to the sea. Currents and tides have been a useful metaphor for me (and many writers far better), but I think the reasons why became clearer for me Saturday while grocery shopping. Grief is sneaky, unlike ocean tides and waves which while sometimes dangerous, are at least …
An Old, Unlikely Angel
I was feeling a bit sorry for myself yesterday, finishing off left-over pasta puttanesca. For the record, puttanesca is delicious the first day, a bit lack-luster the second, but the mediocrity both suited and fed my mood. Today is October 1st, and the fourth anniversary of my friend's, Jeff's, death. I've been feeling his loss …
A Remarkably Good Visit: a Gem in the Midst of Alzheimer’s
“Boy am I glad to see you!” This was an unexpectedly cheerful greeting from Mary, along with a bright smile and a wave of her amethyst-be-ringed hand. Ducking his head under the EXIT sign at the juncture of hallways, Mary’s youngest son smiled too. In the two years I’d been coming with him to visit, …
Continue reading A Remarkably Good Visit: a Gem in the Midst of Alzheimer’s
Southern Fried Californian 