There was no good way to say it when it happened,
there is no good way to say it now.
But this was how Sean's death struck me then,
so I will continue to make this my silent tribute
for as long as the feelings remain unchanged.
(Reprinted from November 28, 2007)
there is no good way to say it now.
But this was how Sean's death struck me then,
so I will continue to make this my silent tribute
for as long as the feelings remain unchanged.
(Reprinted from November 28, 2007)
It’s not a long drive to my son’s high school, maybe 15 minutes.
Most mornings, we share sleepy wise cracks—which of us looks worse; whose day projects out the bigger pain; the lameness of a certain radio commercial.
Sometimes we talk daily routine—remembering to turn in an order form; calling if he needs to be picked up; the logistics of an upcoming outing with friends.
Sometimes we talk a little sports. Redskins, mostly.
Once in a while, as events dictate, we talk real life—there will be other girls; they just discovered an Earth-like planet 20 light-years away; it’s junior year partner, these grades count.
Tuesday morning, we rode in silence.
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