Posts Tagged: grief

We Cannot Love What Is Not

Helen MacDonald’s memoir, H is for Hawk, is about falconry as mourning in the wake of her father’s sudden death. It’s a unique project, with a lot of love and pain built in. I wouldn’t have thought to read it until

We Cannot Love What Is Not

Helen MacDonald’s memoir, H is for Hawk, is about falconry as mourning in the wake of her father’s sudden death. It’s a unique project, with a lot of love and pain built in. I wouldn’t have thought to read it until

The Family Practice: on loss and grooves

Words dried up when my father died. In the new year I’m finding new words, but this paragraph I wrote in June was like a lump in my throat, demanding to come first: When I was sitting by his hospital bed

The Family Practice: on loss and grooves

Words dried up when my father died. In the new year I’m finding new words, but this paragraph I wrote in June was like a lump in my throat, demanding to come first: When I was sitting by his hospital bed

Spring and Fall

In a season when suddenly so many beloved people have become ill, my partner wondered yesterday if we are now of the age when this is to be expected. News of Siberian sinkholes, a likely sign of melting permafrost, overwhelms

Spring and Fall

In a season when suddenly so many beloved people have become ill, my partner wondered yesterday if we are now of the age when this is to be expected. News of Siberian sinkholes, a likely sign of melting permafrost, overwhelms

Thank you Zadie Smith

Beginning this summer and escalating through the winter, as I spend more of my waking hours reading, writing, and talking with people about the climate crisis, I have become insatiably hungry for fiction. The goal is to get dragged by

Thank you Zadie Smith

Beginning this summer and escalating through the winter, as I spend more of my waking hours reading, writing, and talking with people about the climate crisis, I have become insatiably hungry for fiction. The goal is to get dragged by