everything is story

We said goodbye to her a week ago. Since then I have been working, working, with occasional forays into grief—the conversation with the crematorium, the sympathy cards, looking through photos. I had forgotten about this picture. There are still brown nests in the front grass from where she would curl up. The stray cat who loved her looks for her daily.

As we’ve talked to people, over and over, about losing her and what it means, I realized that the story we’re telling about her is less and l...