“We all die.” The thought runs through my mind as a 6-year-old, but it’s simply too much to comprehend. At 15, the full weight of it hits me, when my father passes away. In trying to feel my grief, I’m met with a tsunami of well-intentioned “It’s okay”s that threaten to suffocate me. Finally, one person, a teacher, lets a little air into my life–it’s a breath, a space to live. And this space is one that I, now a psychologist and author, try to re-create for my own son.
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