This piece is from 2016 in my Podcast era. It still rings so very valid. Also, for a nanosecond reading it again I believed my own PR. Nah, just seems so on point. When you read the old stuff you wrote you see a then and a now, which is critical to measuring change. If it’s not measured it can’t be healed. Right?
Read moreRedemption Tour
Since Donna died I measured myself, her death, her love for me, and what it all means. I held the tape measure up to it all. I found solace in what was analysis. Not the raw emotions. It became exposition on my grief. Negligence to not till the soil of my loss to make what grows from that trauma grow. I thought I grew, changed, as I struggled.
Read moreA Letter to Her Ashes
Some of Donna’s Ashes put to sea in Maine
I sit in my ersatz solitary confinement trying to ferret out meaning and purpose. Poking my snout into holes seeking the scent of a voice that I can harvest to resonate with others as Abbey has. There are many ghosts and just the me of me that places a Jersey Barricade in my path.
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