One night, long after the children and I had fallen asleep, my wife lit candles in every room of our house, took off her clothes, and went outside, naked, to sketch charcoal impressions of the candle-glowing house full of sleepers and light she loved. And then she took a scissors and cut a lock of hair from each of us--me, our children, herself-- ( Read more... )

They ask us to understand our grief ( Read more... )

The Funeral ( Read more... )