In April he said he was lonely. He said I was his rock. It felt like a burden. It felt like an honor. Now...
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I was never much of a poetry lover, but this poem by Deborah Garrison in The New Yorker in 1995 always stayed with me....
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Well, it’s been about nine months since my Mom died. The day-to-day has gotten easier unless people ask me about her. Especially if I’m...
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I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date! The date being nearly three weeks since my last post. I actually thought that was...
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I was not sure what I was going to write about today, but I just opened my “Aging Without Children” file where I keep...
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