My Stepdaughter Had Not Spoken to Me for Five Years Until a Heavy Package Arrived at My Door

of it, without the careful parceling out of grief that had become my habit, without any of the self-protective mechanisms I had developed for the purpose of continuing to function. Oil from the machining process soaked through my shirt. I did not care about my shirt. I held on to that engine block and I cried for Jean, who had never gotten to see this continue reading …