Someone did us all a grave injustice by implying that mourning has a distinct beginning, middle, and end.
New York City is filled with random, quirky moments like this, chance collisions that just might change your life.
Our mothers are our most direct connection to our history and gender.
When a mother dies, a daughter's mourning never completely ends. 
Somewhere in that hour I lost all relation to a middle ground, and I didn't regain it for what became a very long time. In
