Finding Grace

by Loretta Rothschild

For a moment, I envied my husband. If only I could be more like Tom and put myself first, no matter what—maybe then I would finish my memoir.

You don’t get the meat without the bones.”

But grief isn’t an oyster—you can’t swallow it whole.

With that short answer, I no longer had eyes on the man I married. He’d lied so matter-of-factly, these sweet nothings turning into hard evidence.

There is no knack to grief. It’s like the sky—it hangs over everything. Sometimes the sun peeks through the clouds, other days it rains, and some days it pours.