Dad and the boys, beach 2003
Dad, Joey, and Sam, 2003

Months after Sam’s death, and shortly before he was gone too, my father, always trying to cheer me on, reassured me that I’d find joy again. I disagreed. I didn’t want joy—I couldn’t even fathom it. I was consumed with grief, and wanted to be dead too. He worried about this, I’m sure, which added to his grief.

What I’ve learned about joy over the years:

It’s one of the hardest things you have to do—find joy again, after loss.

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