Today is my mom’s birthday. On a day where I usually give myself permission to do nothing and care about even less I have gotten dressed and am doing something that I never do on July 24th. I’m working! While I am trying to be a big girl please enjoy this piece that I wrote earlier this month just for today. 

I am an emotional reader in the way that many people are emotional eaters. In fact, when I am grieving all of my friends have to remind me to eat. Reading is the way that I escape everything. Especially grief. In the days after her funeral, I lay on my best friend’s couch and read. How apropos that this month’s Poets and Writer’s would feature a piece by Edwidge Danticat titled “The Art of Death: Writing the Final Story.” Edwidge Danticat whose Brother, I am Dying had me raving to my own mother about her brilliance. Whose Breath, Eyes, Memory was the basis for the title of my MFA thesis and whose inclusion of Haitian Creole was one of the justifications for my use of vernacular in said thesis. Which my mother sat in her bed and read; telling me how awesome it was. 

In the article, she writes of her mother’s death and when I first read it I recalled my own battle with writing after losing my mom. The article reminded me of my own search for any written thing by my mom in the weeks after losing her. I wanted those last bits of her. But now I realize that I have them. I am all the parts of her.

If you have a chance please give the article a look and if you haven’t read any Danticat; definitely give her a read. 


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