Ralf died 2.5 years ago. There are days when I think that I almost forget. I think of him and think of calling him. I need to get a new computer. Surely he'll be able to help me with the choices.  Then I pick up the phone and start to dial his number, and realize that he won't be answering. And I get destroyed all over again.  There is nobody to ( Read more... )

In the past couple of weeks I have been in touch with my aunt.  The contact has kinda lost it's punch. Not that I don't want to talk to her, I do. Her voice, which sounds like my mother's doesn't throw me in a tail spin anymore.  Bigger than that, though, is the fact that I feel better in my skin than I have for years. I grieve, I grieve so much ( Read more... )

For most of the time I have been alive, death has had relatively little existence for me.   Then having immigrated into the United States has kind of given me a detachment from my family and the people with whom I grew up. This detachment has, in large part, acted as a protective mechanism. Since my finances were never such that I  could fly home ( Read more... )