On a recent cold, damp morning, I woke up feeling anxious. My new job had been taking its toll, and when I found J. lying on the couch in the living room and not next to me, I became even more agitated. I ran out the door, shooting a snotty glance in his direction. Walking to the subway, I felt lost. Something was off and I couldn’t put my finger on it. J. called me repeatedly when I got to work, but I didn’t pick up. My mother finally IM’d me. “Answer your phone NOW.” And then I knew — my Mere, my grandmother, was gone. Keep reading »
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