Red's Wrap
Happiness. It's relative.
Tag: grief
The White Binder
My brother had our parents’ stuff laid out like a well-organized garage sale with no price tags. Relatives were picking up and putting down my mother’s costume jewelry which was arranged in rows on the basement ping pong table. I found a locket that… Continue Reading “The White Binder”
Beating it Back with a Stick
I held the handle of my umbrella under my chin so I wouldn’t get soaked pushing the grocery cart to my car. It should rain today, I thought. It should rain on days people die and on the days after. Or maybe what someone… Continue Reading “Beating it Back with a Stick”
The Day After Sandy Hook
I woke up twenty times last night and each time I thought the same thought. Their mothers must still be shrieking. Shrieking and keening. Making sounds they never heard themselves make. That’s what the Sandy Hook mothers are doing, I know it. And then… Continue Reading “The Day After Sandy Hook”
Prepare a Place For Me
There was only one reason why my father would be calling me. My mother must be dead. He explained how it happened, how just last week he had given up taking care of her at home, that for the third time, she’d gone limp… Continue Reading “Prepare a Place For Me”
Snow Door | wisconsinacademy.org
Listen to Jan read her essay “Billy” presented on WUWM’s Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “At the Breakfast Bar” on WUWM Lake Effect
Jan’s essay “The Parish Hall,” on WUWM Lake Effect
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11
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