My inbox became a treasure trove of sweet words, reassurance that his name was on the lips of thousands
The simplest of givens, like going to the kids for Yom Tov or moving into family become question marks
We will sit, not with parents or grandparents, but ourselves, like we do on a Tuesday evening for a lazy supper
I walked through the doors of the hospital’s main entrance and headed straight for intensive care. A friend of mine was caring for an ill relative, and I’d come to spend some time with her. As I exited the elevator and entered that alternate universe known as the ICU, I noticed a flurry of activity around
We can’t plan. Not what tomorrow may look like, not what next month may look like
Is it even meant to return to normal — or is this supposed to be leading us somewhere else?
