Beauty And Terror

We all need some Rilke in our lives.

Two years ago, I got the call I knew was coming, but when it did, I hit decline. I knew it when my aunt’s name was flashing on the screen, but I didn’t want to hear it. She left a voicemail that was obviously the kind of voicemail you leave when you are trying to stay calm and not just blurt out the horrible thing you need to tell the other person.

My dad died. Her brother died. She found him.