by Eric Alan

June 13, 2020

Memories of my mother will soon go soft around the edges. They’ll become as dreams and black-and-white photos, once prescient and still present, but inevitably beginning to fade. Given time’s passage, they will begin to miss living dimensions, and then rejoin the earth.

Nothing is wrong with that. Memories have their tenure, just as lives do. Grief and gratitude are inherently as transient as all of us who feel… READ MORE

Share

by Eric Alan

May 09, 2020

Everything is spinning these days. What seemed like solid societal ground is no longer underfoot, as a virus too small to see becomes too vast to deny. Here in the rural Oregon territories, its direct effects aren’t as focused as in the urban hotspots (so far). Yet the rural safety nets were already far thinner than most in the cities see. There are few doctors out here; the one remaining rural hospital is endangered.… READ MORE

Share

by Eric Alan

April 11, 2020

In the midst of a four-day bedside vigil, I held my mother’s hands almost continuously for nineteen hours. After nearly ninety-four years, she was on the verge of eternal emergence into spirit. Any moment, any breath could be her last. With her fierce will and deep love of life, she was fighting against her agony and fear with a Dylan Thomas approach. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light…”

 

READ MORE

Share