Time Held Me Green and Dying*: Reflections on the Deaths of our Sons.

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Beyond Grammacello

I have an on-line friend who lost her eighteen-year-old son sixteen months ago. I plan to write here, with her permission, a series of Dear Andrea letters, both because I hope it will be helpful to her, in some small way, early as she is in her hideous journey, and because I want to start finally talking about my own long journey through the sudden loss of my eighteen year old son, twenty two years ago.

Dear Andrea,
I know you lost your dear Adam as suddenly as I lost my Shawn. They were both eighteen when they died, gentle, funny, charismatic charmers , cat lovers, who were very musical. There is much weird synchrony in all of this. When you were painting me the three beautiful pictures I have in my living room, five years ago, you said you had a strange sensation, as if Shawn were himself standing…

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