Buried. With the remains of my first child in my arms, I journey barefoot, fragile as a newborn, breathing in the tears of premature farewells. He is light as a feather, but impossibly heavy. Upon arrival I’m greeted by my family, friends, acquaintances, strangers, they all feel closer and further away from me than ever. Our grief finds little solace in embraces, our damaged souls gnaw at our hearts and bodies they stain out evenings. Our grief...
