Death comes to us all, so they say.
Five years ago I found myself living in the US after living abroad. I had lost a child. I was 39, broken, and trying to find balance, perspective, the ability to breathe. Without knowing how it happened, I reconnected with my cousin 34, who had lost her father to suicide at age 8 and her mother to cancer at age 18. She was floating through life on a bed of sorrow. So was I. We began a Thursday night ritual. We cooked a meal, watched a movie, and eventually talked about death. Our Thursday nights were special. Our Thursday nights were necessary. Our Thursday nights were therapy. Recently, someone close to me lost a parent. Seeing that pain all over again, the fresh wound, I realized there is a way to help. Out of this sorrow and onto this white screen, I hope to create a space for learning, laughing, and leaning on someone. Until death do us part.