Aunt Phyllis: Processing Grief the Only Way I Know How
I process by writing. I'm steady writing this time, but not yet processing. I had Roy Rogers chicken once, sure enough, in a rest stop. Then I remembered — I was with Aunt Phyllis. And just like that, the memories rushed in.
November 20: A Letter to My Angel and Her Angel
I have a bad memory. It's not the baby, it's me. I can't remember a single bad thing about you.