It’s the time of year when the weather acts like a Philip Glass score. The body can’t get enough of the mikva of hot water, and we turn inwards. “What day is it?” one of my students asked in class last week, twirling his pencil. “The 87th of January,” another quipped back, without looking up. Read more
Living a life damaged by grief is something I understand well. When I was eleven, my sister died. I usually just tell people that she died in a car accident, which is sort of true, but really, she drowned. It happened in Colorado, during the spring thaw when the melting snow on the mountain peaks turns peaceful, meandering rivers into dark, raging torrents. Read more
Grief is trauma. It should be treated in the workplace as such. Read more
“A large number of black women writers, both past and present, have gone to early graves. To know their life stories is to be made aware of how death hovers . . . [their deaths] stand as constant reminders that life is not promised — that it is crucial for a writer to respect time.” Read more
People talk about all the things that happened before the suicide… but what about what happens after? Read more
