Tag: grief
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The Man and the Child None of us actually remember seeing them.My mom told us about it years later—at least a decade after it happened. Apparently, when we were really little—around three to five years old—all three of us kids saw the same thing: a man and a child. Different years.Different rooms.Same description. We each…
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What the Body Remembers I don’t have many memories of my Grandpa—I was eight or nine when he passed—but the ones I do have are vivid. Cemented.And the clearest of all? His energy hugs. Whenever we walked into the house, my Grams was there first—ready with her lipstick kisses and her “Hi, sweetie!”—and then we’d…