Running on Sober

I'm not empty, just sober

Tag Archive for ‘grief’

“Oh and It’s a Hollow Feeling” (Glenn Frey, Music and Memories)

Glenn Frey. November 6, 1948 – January 18, 2016. Photo via.
"Staring slowly across the sky, said goodbye." ~"Tequila Sunrise"

I was emailing my friend Cayman when I heard the news on the television. Glenn Frey, co-founder of the Eagles, dead at 67. I stopped typing mid-sentence; jabbering on about movies and books loses importance when reality smacks you in the face. Another icon, gone. I thought about it for a minute. My first instinct was to type, “Fuck. Glenn Frey died. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Thinking that may […]

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Wild, Untethered and Strayed


A real letter. Written one year ago today. Still unsent. 12/23/14 Today you are finally going to see the movie Wild. I’ve been waiting for you to see it. Honestly, I was surprised when you said you wanted to, that it was THE movie you wanted to see in the theater this year. I wondered if you even knew what it was about. See, to you it may be about […]

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There is a Light and it Never Goes Out

Forest Night Sky Spruce Trees Stars by Forest Wander. Via WikiCommons, CC BY-SA 3.0 US.

I am sitting at my dining room table, in my red-walled dining room, with a thick book of algebra and algorithms open before me. I am sixteen, and it is only the beginning of the school year, but already I am flipping to the back of the math book, staring at pages that look like they are written in Greek. (I imagine many of them were.) My jaw drops a […]

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The Gift of Life: What Dr. Oliver Sacks reminds us as he prepares to die


RIP Oliver Sacks (9 July 1933 – 30 August 2015). I have been a sentient being, a thinking animal, on this beautiful planet, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure. -Oliver Sacks The below was written in February 2015. *** People have forgotten what life is all about. They’ve forgotten what it is to be alive. They need to be reminded. They need to be reminded of […]

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It’s Not a Shrine or Anything


My mother’s purse has not moved in three years, seven months. It sits on her desk, beside her computer monitor. A spider web forms a bridge between the purse and screen. Insurance forms, business cards for hospice workers, and hospital bills are strewn haphazardly across her desk’s surface. Books on real estate management and lung cancer and knitting, a Bible too, all layered in dust. Words abandoned, no longer helpful or needed. Frog figurines […]

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