When I was born, my brother David was already in junior high: a 12-year-old boy with glasses, gap teeth, and a sort-of-shag haircut, except not as cool. It was 1973, and his geekiness belied what a heartbreaker he would soon become — after contacts and braces and athletics (plus a better haircut). He already loved nature... Continue Reading →
Anyone who knows me knows I've been an animal lover since birth. I grew up in a house with eight cats, a couple of dogs, tons of fish, turtles rescued from the road, and many rodents. There are countless photos of me as a child holding a furry friend up to the camera, playing with... Continue Reading →
When the holidays are approaching and festivities are being planned, for families who have lost a member — which is a lot of us — we often think of the empty seat. Where a beloved person once joined in, a place is now vacant. In my case, it’s specifically the empty daybed at the edge... Continue Reading →
A couple of days ago, one of the many grief-y Instagram accounts I follow posted: “Death anniversary. The shittiest of all anniversaries.” And I went, “well, duh.” Seeing on it the day before the 15th anniversary of my brother David's death, I was especially unimpressed with its lack of profundity. But it offered an important... Continue Reading →
Me and David on his birthday in 1977 or 1978, I think... Every year on this day, I celebrate the fact my big brother was born. And I mourn the fact that he isn't growing any older, since he died almost 15 years ago. Today, David would have turned 62. Sixty-two! An age that, when... Continue Reading →
Anne Pinkerton 