I sobbed myself to sleep the night after my brother Jim’s memorial service. The huge gathering went smoothly, including my reading, but something gnawed inside.
In the middle of the night, I woke up with a knot in my belly. Not simply grief, a feeling I know well. Not exactly dread or fear, but I couldn’t take a deep breath.
“We’re OK,” I told the feeling as I opened a window. “I need to sleep.”
“That’s bullshit,” my body said. “I’m not OK.”
After a few hours of...