The fifth Mother’s Day without you
Posted on May 13, 2018 Leave a Comment
Some years, Mother’s Day feels like a speed bump. Others, it is Everest.
Posted on April 10, 2018 1 Comment
There is a laundry list of important people my mom will never meet. My editor. My new PCP. My live-in boyfriend and love of my life. Our new cat. His family. My new favorite barista. And so on.
On learning to love when you’ve lost, and how it’s only kind of like riding a bike
Posted on January 24, 2017 5 Comments
I’m scared of a lot of things. See: spiders, vest-less roller-coasters and falling out of cars mid-turn (to name a few). But, for some odd reason, I’ve never been scared of relationships, even when both history and bad television say I should be. I’ve never been afraid to give my all to another person — be […]
My one New Year’s resolution
Posted on December 31, 2015 Leave a Comment
I often wonder if death is my shtick. My sweet spot. My comfort zone. My “thing,” if you will.
Are you there, childhood? It’s me, Meaghan
Posted on November 23, 2015 Leave a Comment
One of the hardest parts about losing both parents has been losing the memories that went with them. The stories I would ask to hear over and over again at thirteen, but couldn’t care less about come high school because I was a hormonal dick-wad with a Myspace to manage.
Me and Sarah and the movie about the dying girl
Posted on November 9, 2015 1 Comment
Sometime this summer, I made the conscious and sober — though somewhat hungover — decision to go see “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” alone.
The second year without her
Posted on October 9, 2015 3 Comments
“Are you sure you want to put your roommate down as your emergency contact?” “Hell, what if you forget to cook breakfast that morning?” asked an overly aggressive, semi-sexist personal trainer during a free consultation I wish terribly I had slept through instead. “I’m sure,” I said confidently, dodging — if only for a second — a bullet I […]
On dreams of dead parents, delayed grief and Rihanna
Posted on August 18, 2015 2 Comments
What I gathered (besides the fact that I could probably use some professional therapy) was that, nearly two years later, I’m still grieving my mother’s death (and — though the dreams of my dad are far less frequent — close to seven years later, I’m still grieving his, too).
Living in apartments with boys
Posted on March 20, 2015 2 Comments
“You had the right idea when you moved in with guys you knew you’d never bang.” Six and a half years ago I buried my father. I had pink hair, a petite frame, and a bone to pick with the world. I listened to a lot of Brand New and Kevin Devine, hoping that one […]
Christmas sucks without your cigarette breaks
Posted on December 23, 2014 Leave a Comment
She looked at me like I was fucking orphan Annie. – Me, Thanksgiving Eve, three sips into a Long Island Iced Tea It’s the best of times. It’s the worst of times. The holidays, however joyful, are never easy in the days, weeks, and months following the loss of a loved one. The heavy hitters […]