Grief changes people. I watched it swallow my mom whole. But when she finally started smiling again, I wondered… Was it real — or was she in danger?
My dad died when I was nine. One minute, he was in the kitchen flipping pancakes, humming off-key and laughing at his own bad jokes, and the next, he was on the floor.
I still remember the sound of the spatula hitting the tile.
I remember the way mom screamed and the flashing red lights outside our window. I held his hand the whole ride to the hospital, hoping and praying he’d open his eyes.