Today, I wish it was yesterday

Today, I wish it was yesterday

I’m not 10 anymore. I’m 53, and my heroes are dying. … Yesterdays are to be cherished. Yesterday, we didn’t know Tom Seaver was dead.

Grandaddy

Grandaddy

Forty-six years ago I was 7. We were back in Lynchburg – but not on the ridge, running around the tobacco fields, berry patches, gardens, and hayloft. My mom was home to bury her dad.

You are not alone

You are not alone

No parent is ready to lose a child. What the hell are you supposed to say? “Like” a social media post. “Love” another photo. “Thoughts and prayers” sounds hollow when I cannot fathom the pain.