A meditation on the death of a young poet
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As I learn to live without Enzo, I contemplate the journey of his younger brother and what I owe him.
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In a humble piece of art, my late son left me an important question and, possibly, an even more important answer.
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Sometimes, the only thing harder than forgiving another is forgiving oneself
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On this special day, I start the process of bringing light into the darkness.
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As Thanksgiving Day approaches, I meditate on the meaning of thankfulness in the midst of loss.
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With loss comes a choice: which clock will mark the remaining moments of our lives
Almost eight months have passed since losing Enzo, and in my final essay I reflect on what I was, now am, and one day will be.
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Through a gentle film about loss and restoration, I reconnected to the world.
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Reflecting on doors not opened, I wonder what I could have known that is now lost.
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As summer turns to autumn, I see the shades of winter looming in the distance.
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Almost every day I pass the place where Enzo left this world; today it was a new, and deeper, experience.