Sometimes You Don't Even Know What You

My Mother Died Of Metastatic Colorectal Cancer Shortly Before Three P.m. On Christmas Day Of 2008. I Don't Know The Exact Time Of Her Death, Because None Of Us Thought To Look At A Clock For A While After She Stopped Breathing.

I Think That Grief Is A Profound Spiritual, Metaphysical, And - Oddly - Physical Reckoning With Death, Which We Don't Understand Well. It's Both The Process By Which You Relearn The World In The Absence Of Someone Who Was A Pillar In It, And The Process In Which You Confront The Reality Of Death.

I Was Not Raised With Religion, And I Had No Faith Before My Mother Died. On The Other Hand, When She Died, I Did Not Immediately Feel She Was "gone." I Don't Believe She Is In Something Like Heaven, But I Also Feel That We Don't Understand Much About The Nature Of The Universe. So I Hold On To That Uncertainty, At Times.

It's A Blessing Not To Be Alone In Your Grief But It's Also Painful To See Your Parents And Siblings In Pain.

Like My Mother Before Me, I Have Always Been A Good Speller.