We All Want Impossible Things

by Catherine Newman

It’s the anticipation I can’t handle. Loss lurks around every corner, and how do we prepare?

So many of my assumptions about people turn out to be wrong! I try to make a mental note of this.

It’s been so arduous, Edi’s dying. It’s like we’ve all been digging and digging, shoveling out a hole, and we can finally stop. Only now there’s this hole here.

What I’m starting to understand, finally, is that the point isn’t to help the people who know how best to ask for help. It’s to be helpful.

I tell Myron that he’s connecting the wrong dots. “Not wrong,” I clarify. “But you’re tracing only a picture of grief, of your own broken heart. But really, all the stars are there, and they’re showing you the joy too.