Image by Janeke88 from Pixabay

Warning: While not graphic, this post does contain description of deceased person shortly after their death.

Yesterday, as my mother and I sat in the police station, the detective slowly pushed the manilla folder across the table to us, saying, “We’ve never done anything like this before. We didn’t expect…

Making ourselves brave

I have always said you changed who I am, Hannahbelle, immeasurably and for the better. But, it still feels like a heartlessly cruel punishment that I have to reflect on this, your one-year “anniversary” (what are we supposed to call it?), and not with you.

I like…

Searching

For a long time — for most of my life — I turned over the smooth, round, shadow-grey stones at my feet, hoping I would lift them to find some treasure or fulfillment, or at the very least some small, moving salamander or even larva, underneath. All I found…

Courtesy: Mary Tomolonius

My sister, Hannah, died nine months ago. I am immeasurably changed, but, then, how else would I be? Grief, like time, is always moving. It ambles forward or sideways in its thick, plodding way. Just as decay is inscribed into the building plan of everything fresh, grief — that black…

I used to be half-in/half-out about what happens after we die. Are there spirits? Is there a place? Is there anything? But, seven months after she has died, the more I am forgetting the exact touch of my sister Hannah’s hand and the precise features of her face, the more…

Tumbling in the unknown

Hannah, my sister, died from a gunshot wound to the heart. The complete answers to how and why exist somewhere, but the reality is that — despite our best efforts — we may never know exactly what precipitated her death. Desolation comes from no answers, from…

Sarah Tomolonius

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