Grief Without God

Learning to Feel Everything

I'm driving north on I-17 toward Flagstaff, tears streaming down my face, gripping the steering wheel like it might anchor me to something solid. The call came a few hours ago: my grandson is coming. At 25 weeks. Too early. Way too early.

My daughter-in-law's well-being hangs in the balance. My grandson's tiny body is preparing to fight for every breath …