A simple guide to visiting someone close to death — I was young and stupid. The man who had hired and mentored and befriended me was lying in his house in a neighborhood down the street, dying. He was only 55. I was 27, so I thought that was old. His cancer had come back. This time, he wouldn’t beat…

Don’t let them hold you down. And yes, you can reach the sun. — Dear Roman — Your name came to me in a dream. Strong, steadfast, certain. A soldier guarding a citadel. A red sun sinking behind the castle. Concrete courage and fearless fortitude. The might and wisdom of eons, wrapped in your name and being. For you, anything was possible. “He turns somersaults,” I complained…

How we drove to the beach and dipped our hearts into the summer sea. — “Why is the ocean so soothing to the soul?” My man-child, freshly graduated from high school, turns away from the deck where he stands surveying the Pacific that surges and sweeps below. The question is his. His deepened voice lilts upward in curious query. “Because we come from it.” This…

Kindergarten to Graduation: Letting a child go — It’s time. It’s time to say good-bye to my baby boy. It’s bitter and it’s sweet, this farewell. For 18 years, I’ve loved him. From babe to teen. From child to almost-adult. From kindergarten through high school. From then to now. The years slide by. The years slide by. Oh…

Here’s 5 reasons why you should start a short, simple meditation practice — Stop your brain. Relax. Breathe. Focus on a part of your body that feels good, right here, right now. Try your hands or feet. Feel the safety and warmth there. Focus on that feeling. Breathe in. Breathe out. That’s it: you’re meditating. Meditation has been practiced for thousands of years…

A primer in imperfect parenting, death, and joy — I’m not the perfect mother. I never was. But I was your mother, Roman: the only one you got. I felt perfect love that early 4 a.m. morning when they laid you in my arms. You, those chubby chipmunk cheeks, those sky blue eyes, the soft heat of your brand-new…

Reflecting on poetry, love, e.e. cummings, and the death of a child — A chain around the neck, a millstone on my back. An anvil pressing my soul (deep, dark) into the soil beneath my feet. I feel it every waking moment and every sleeping second: this heavy weight upon my heart. The weight of your life: gone. The weight of dead hope…

In my dreams, I leave the place I love, again and again — I remember the night the rug sellers came from Isfahan. Pulling up in a dusty white Mercedes van, they unpacked their treasures with languid limbs and olive-toned, handsome hands. Eyes narrowed, they ambled into the white-lit room with soft surety and artful ease. Semi-smiling, nodding, they spoke quick English in…

Death in 3 Parts — I. The road She lay flat on the pavement, warm blood pooling like thick, red Kool-Aid beneath her head. I stood, frozen, my brain somersaulting back in time: emerging from the thick woods, the twilit road, the rush of a car, my shrill call for her to come, the screech and thud. Nikki’s…