Vol.1 – Excerpt 1 

Grief 

I was seven when Grief first visited me from 3,000 miles away. Bruises and scraped knees from falling off my red bicycle were no longer the only hurts I knew. Yet, I would have welcomed them, if only they could replace the void left by the sudden death of a loved one gone too soon. I did not yet understand what it meant for someone to close their eyes and never open them again but sorrow would find its way to me across the years more often than I would have liked. I am now fluent in Dickenson and Plath, quiet and restrained but also raw and intense in my grief. When September comes, I am always reminded of loss and how much I miss all of them so much.   
 
ông nội, bà nội, ông ngoại, bà ngoại, mợ, dượng, cậu, chú, anh hai, chị, dì…ba