It was through the dark waters of grief that I came to touch my unlived life. . . . There is some strange intimacy between grief and aliveness, some sacred exchange between what seems unbearable and what is most exquisitely alive. Through this, I have come to have a lasting faith in grief.

Francis Weller, The Wild Edge of Sorrow

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When someone dies in my life, I’ve gotten into the habit of writing them letters. It’s a way to keep the relationship going: to say my piece, to work out unfinished business, to keep them up on current events. The letter provides a type of closure for me and a type of opening. It’s an…

Another Funeral: R.I.P. Uncle Mike

On Thursday, I will board a plane for the first time since the stay-at-home orders went into effect. What essential travel plans do I have, you ask? My Uncle Mike’s funeral is Friday at 2 p.m. in Virginia. This is the same uncle who I had just spoken with three weeks prior, who sounded happy…

George Floyd and What Funerals Taught Me About Race

I had been working on this post about my earliest lessons about grief for a week when George Floyd’s death happened. I needed to stop to attend to this new sorrow and its implications for George Floyd’s family, for the country, for the world, and for me personally. The more I attended to this new…

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