A Sanctuary

“The years from eight to twelve passed in a blur. Like most children of trauma, I remember little, either bad or good. I know I went to Catholic mass every Sunday morning. Though it would be years before I really understood God’s fatherhood, the little steepled church was a genuine sanctuary. Catholics know the value …

Crazy-making Parents

“I understood his following my mother in her foray into oblivion. I didn’t jump into the fray either. My father didn’t make any sense, and my mother wouldn’t talk at all. This is why we don’t visit, I thought. They are too crazy-making. Is my father loading a gun, while his wife and son-in-law discuss …