Death / Poetry

10 Days Late

I missed her birthday by ten days, not that it matters because she’s dead. But I thought this year I’d be different, certain it was 4/30. I even prepared my tears. And almost sent out “dead grandparent dinner” invitations. I’d serve lasagna. Guests could bring a dish made with grief and handwritten recipe cards. Instead … Continue reading

Grief / Poetry

Most Precious One

What’s left of grandma, is the title of grandpa, hanging heavy on his coat rack thin shoulders. Stirring taco soup on the stove. Squinting at the tiny, scrawling handwritten recipe. Trying to feel a tinier bit less than half of something once whole. Still missing, “my most precious one,” he says to an empty future and his granddaughter … Continue reading


Missing Her

Missing her tastes like raspberry freezer jam hoarded since 2011 and spread sparingly on the remaining biscuits, because when it’s gone she’s gone. Missing her feels like the dense sweetness of too-ripe bananas smashed under the weight of the potato masher, and scraped into the 4×8 loaf pan. Missing her sounds like the rushing ocean of tears that starts … Continue reading