Grief & Growth Mark Death Anniversary
On the 20th anniversary of her father's death, a daughter recalls how loss forced her to grow up.


On the 20th anniversary of her father's death, a daughter recalls how loss forced her to grow up.

You never forget the roar. I was 8 years old when a tornado terrorized my family as we tried to survive in perhaps the worst possible structure to shelter us. I was tucked under the covers when the bedroom light came on, and the next thing I knew, my mother had pulled me out of …

I ordered four catfish filets, a handful of shrimp and a bag of ice, unaware that I would be transported from the Kroger fish counter across time and death. The moment happened when an employee awkwardly handed me the plastic bag of ice, open. I held the bag by its ends and twirled it. I …

I think of the pandemic as the time in between. It is the period after normal has ended but a new normal has yet to be established. It is the time life is still dizzingly out of control. I feel as if I’ve been holding my breath, waiting to resurface from the depths of a …

I want to tell you that my daddy turned 81 this week, that I made him a German chocolate cake, treated him to a big buffet lunch and gave him a beautiful card. But that would be misleading. The truth is, he would have turned 81 – the same age Mom was at death – …

When we let go of the emotional investment we’re putting in outcomes, we often get pleasantly surprised by what happens without striving and effort. I’m referring today to a personal surprise, however, this applies to our grief journey as well. If we let grief process unfold, and never mind the end point, we’ll experience healing …
I helped my 10-year-old friend clean and organize her room. As she lobbied to keep a shoe that was about to fall apart, I saw shades of myself in her. And a characteristic of my mother. Her name, which I’m withholding, means moonlight. So I’ll call her Moonlight. An artist, Moonlight saw value in things …

I lifted the piece of plastic under the gutter drain and plucked a worm from the damp soil. I walked to the little girl at the end of my parents’ driveway, the gateway to 13 acres of beauty. She was visiting with her parents, the people buying the property that’s been in my family 45 …

What a waste land. A dirty, wet road led past 15-foot-tall piles of car parts, discarded machinery and crushed appliances. I situated the truck bed under a crane that dwarfed the vehicle. And me. As a menacing claw reached inside and crunched my parents’ old dryer in its grip, I leaned away from the rear …
