I first met Susan’s dining room furniture when we visited Fortress Fine Arts Storage in Boston, known to I-93 travelers as the building with the inflated gigantic padlock. I was in awe of the central elevator platform, which was large enough for a car, and the mystery of what valuables were within each surrounding compartment. […]
Category: Grief
Christmas Eve, 2012
[I wrote this on Christmas Eve, 2012] The theme song of Star Trek The Next Generation, Susan’s ringtone, starts to play. Kim answers the phone. “Uh, hello?” Who could be calling from Susan’s phone? The phone is on Kim’s desk where it’s been since Susan died, exactly three weeks ago. Caller: “Hi!” Kim: “Um, who’s this?”
Angry at Alone
Now alone again, angry, I will climb to the top of the highest rock, shrouded in dark clouds that obscure my view. I will roar and gnash, rip my claws into the earth . . . and cry.
Should have been
Today, August 2, 2013, Susan should have been 56 years old. Instead, she died of cancer seven months and one day ago. By next month, she might have told you she was 57. She always aged herself a year, almost a year in advance. Sometimes she thought she was actually turning a year older than […]
