how happy we were to sleep together, before insomnia and joints that can’t find comfort, before snoring and restless legs

“You’re going to find out what happened to Mom?” he asked, a little nervous. But he quickly granted permission. What was he hoping for, I wonder? As I reflect now – years after my dad’s death – I think he wanted those charts to document her love. Perhaps some doctor’s notes confirming that Isabel never meant to leave her three sons.

I’m a prisoner in my own flesh. My consciousness is the warden, the people around me become the inmates of my creation

I’ve never felt so damn fragile since you chose to leave. Haunted and yet somehow fascinated. Knowing now exactly what ‘Found in a vehicle’ amounts to.

We found, as we shared our interpersonal lives, that our narratives varied in circumstance, from illness to accident, stillbirth, and suicide, but the outcome for each of our children had been the same. Child loss, in many ways ostracizes one from their known realms of society and we sought out a more authentic connection to those with knowing hearts.