Papa Wilson, my grandfather, died when I was eight years old. This was in 1964. I don’t remember many details about his actual death, but I do remember that he was 84 when he died. I thought that was positively ancient.
The gift of pain and loss.
This is one you probably want to avoid, based on the title, right? But I think you’ll be encouraged.
The first dead person I ever saw.
This is a sequel of sorts to my last blog, “Grieve Appropriately.” I have a bit more to say, and for some reason that particular blog seemed to resonate with many of you. So there’s this. Papa Wilson died when I was eight years old. This was in 1964. I don’t remember many details about […]