Since Donna died I measured myself, her death, her love for me, and what it all means. I held the tape measure up to it all. I found solace in what was analysis. Not the raw emotions. It became exposition on my grief. Negligence to not till the soil of my loss to make what grows from that trauma grow. I thought I grew, changed, as I struggled.
Read moreA Letter to Her Ashes
I sit in my ersatz solitary confinement trying to ferret out meaning and purpose. Poking my snout into holes seeking the scent of a voice that I can harvest to resonate with others as Abbey has. There are many ghosts and just the me of me that places a Jersey Barricade in my path.
Read more