At My Mother’s Funeral My Sister Thought She Had Won Until I Opened the Door

the humiliation and the grief and the violent dismantling of everything I had planned were simply the shape of my future now, a wound I would carry in one form or another forever.

I was wrong. Not because the wound healed cleanly, because it did not. But because what came after was built from sturdier material than what came before. Zevian never asked continue reading …