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