Fractured Perspectives on Loss
A letter to my son and reflections on grief
Hello and welcome to Notes from the Town Hermit, a haven for the overthinkers and deep-feelers who search for reasons why life should be worth living. These letters are a labour of love, so if you have the means and want to support my writing, please upgrade to unlock all my essays.
Dear Inklings,
As usual, the month has flown by and spring is just around the corner. Though winter remains my favourite season, I’m looking forward to less colds rotating through our household. How do kids pick up so many germs?
By unhappy chance, two of our most wonderful babysitters are out of country this entire month. If anyone knows how you get anything done and remain sane with a newly-mobile baby and hyperactive kindergartner, please email me. I’d love to know.
You may have also noticed some changes around here. We are now a fellowship of oddities! The new name fits better with my vision of this space being one for the misfits, although I am still going to call you Inklings because yes.
Today’s essay is in letter form to Ren, my oldest son and most beloved friend, whom we adopted from England. He passed away in 2021. In it, I reflect on various losses throughout my life and how they stole the sense of wonder I had for the world, how I find comfort in history. I also share a childhood memory of a moment of separation from my parents when my father was receiving treatment for leukemia.
This essay is for paid members only due to its personal nature. Thank you, Rosie W,
, and Jane Wilson, for upgrading. Your support makes this publication possible and keeps me writing.