The Potty Mouth Granny

  • Grief Never Ends

    Lord, I dreamed about my brother Larry this morning. He was alive. Healthy. Walking around like death had made some kind of mistake. And in the dream, I was completely stunned because my mind kept saying, “But you’re supposed to be dead.” Yet there he was, breathing, smiling, existing like he had simply stepped out…

    thepottymouthgranny

  • Surviving My Brothers

    Grief keeps its own calendar. February comes in like a quiet thief, soft-footed and merciless, carrying dates that glow like coals. My brother Randy — gone on his birthday February 7th, just thirty-four, the candles never meant to be memorial lights. Four days earlier I was in a hospital bed with a broken leg, my…

    thepottymouthgranny