The Grace of Phantom Pain
Comparing the continuing presence of a dead loved one to a phantom limb is more than metaphor: it’s a transformative experience.

Comparing the continuing presence of a dead loved one to a phantom limb is more than metaphor: it’s a transformative experience.

When this allegorical behemoth lumbers through our lives, we are helpless in the wake of its devastation.

How many parents, driven to despair, have offered their lives to God or the devil if only their child could survive?

Why do I feel a jot of sadness when I drive past the cornfield that now occupies the space where my childhood home once stood?

With lush arrangements featuring everything from piano to saxophone to perfectly paced percussion, the sonic experience of Child of My Sorrow is, well, fun.

When systems have failed and injustice abounds, will I turn away from those left in the wake of grief, unable to abide their pain if I cannot fix it, or will I offer them my presence, quiet and alongside?

After all, grief isn’t rational or given to nice, neat organization.
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