When I was born, my brother David was already in junior high: a 12-year-old boy with glasses, gap teeth, and a sort-of-shag haircut, except not as cool. It was 1973, and his geekiness belied what a heartbreaker he would soon become — after contacts and braces and athletics (plus a better haircut). He already loved nature... Continue Reading →
Anyone who knows me knows I've been an animal lover since birth. I grew up in a house with eight cats, a couple of dogs, tons of fish, turtles rescued from the road, and many rodents. There are countless photos of me as a child holding a furry friend up to the camera, playing with... Continue Reading →
When the holidays are approaching and festivities are being planned, for families who have lost a member — which is a lot of us — we often think of the empty seat. Where a beloved person once joined in, a place is now vacant. In my case, it’s specifically the empty daybed at the edge... Continue Reading →
A couple of days ago, one of the many grief-y Instagram accounts I follow posted: “Death anniversary. The shittiest of all anniversaries.” And I went, “well, duh.” Seeing on it the day before the 15th anniversary of my brother David's death, I was especially unimpressed with its lack of profundity. But it offered an important... Continue Reading →
Me and David on his birthday in 1977 or 1978, I think... Every year on this day, I celebrate the fact my big brother was born. And I mourn the fact that he isn't growing any older, since he died almost 15 years ago. Today, David would have turned 62. Sixty-two! An age that, when... Continue Reading →
After thinking about a short piece for a long time, which I envisioned being called “10 Things 10 Years After Your Brother Dies,” over the summer I finally wrote it and Modern Loss — a platform I appreciate so much — published it. I loved working with Gabi Birkner, a compassionate, smart, and intuitive editor... Continue Reading →
I've always had an aversion to the word precious. It sounds fragile and cloying in my mouth, like the way it's used to talk about cute babies: “Isn't she presh-uss?” There is something nose-raisingly snobbish about the word when it describes jewelry: “Made with only precious stones...” But the adjective is defined by Merriam-Webster as... Continue Reading →
“When he's free soloing, it's when he feels the most..." Honnold's mother starts saying to the camera and pauses, so that I think something else is coming: ...the most alive, the most excited, the most successful. “It's when he feels the most,” she then reiterates, and leaves it there. “How can you take that away... Continue Reading →
A couple of days ago, I clicked the small ornate letter T on my iPhone, as I do most mornings, and ran my finger down the appealingly slick surface, scanning the headlines in my New York Times app. Sick of the elections, racial tensions and ongoing police dramas, I kept scrolling, taking note of items... Continue Reading →
True Scrawl 