Browse Topics
Parents
The Funeral
He remembered feeling sick with fear. She had been breathing with difficulty, the air making a rasping sound in her throat. She sounded different — almost impolite. Sounds that used to mean Nana were the floating notes of her harpsichord, the soft rustle of the pages she turned in story books, songs half hummed half whispered, and the small clicking of her knitting needles.
May 1982The Every-Other-Friday-Afternoon Bridge Luncheon
As far as I know, my grandmother’s only regret in life was that she died on a Thursday. “Damnation!” she cursed fate in front of her sister Gert, her four children, and her thirteen grandchildren.
February 1982Kali Comes Home
It is a short-term hurt for a long-term heal; I suddenly understand, not through some feat of logic but through living alone with the only thing I have ever had or will ever have — the pearl of my Isness. I am not alone, I am the beloved, I am understood, and there is nothing I need ever change.
November 1981From The Heart
As I learn to accept love as it is really given — not as I expect it to be — a vast amount of the precious stuff becomes available.
July 1981Death Of A Loved One
Giving the eulogy, being followed by a chicken, losing a child
May 1981
