“How’s your back doing?” my father would ask with a hope-you’re-okay smile from across the dinner table.
He struggled to remember many things during the last years of his life, but he remembered that my back was hurting. Perhaps he worried, knowing at his age how pain can accumulate and weigh us down. I felt that weight on the morning my mother called to tell me he’d died. That news hurt like nothing I’d experienced before . . .
Excerpted from the essay “In the Wake of Pain and the Gold of Care” in today’s A Kintsugi Life blog. Click here to read more.