grief

I told Winnie that I was queer before I told anyone human—late at night, in my room, after writing it down in my journal. “You won’t stop loving me if I’m gay, will you?” I asked him. He replied with his signature loud meow.

It did not solve all of my problems. It did not make the reality of this deep hurt go away. But it did make me feel more like myself, which I'd begun to fear I would never feel again.

I have a lifetime of momless moments ahead of me, but I’ve prepared for those since her death. What I hadn’t prepared for was that I’d have to celebrate one of those milestones on a day that I typically spend in mourning.

From a distance, a vintage girl can seem charming and lovably odd until you realize that she literally comes with a ton of baggage.

She’s made all the mistakes, so you don’t have to… Ask Erin is a weekly advice column, in which Erin answers your burning questions about anything at all.

Have you ever googled “baby ashes urn”? Has that ever been the highlight of your day? Have you gotten a renewed energy with this type of shopping conquest because it gives you something (anything) you can do for your dead child? Have you experienced such a distinct isolation that even getting gas or going to the grocery store paralyzes you?

Death, we know because it’s drilled into us from an early age, is a natural part of life.

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