death_of_a_parent tender_square is a common trigger for divorce. spouses grieve in different ways and it either pushes them apart or brings them closer. i remember sitting outside in the summer, on the phone with my therapist following my mother-in-law's death, telling her that my husband and i were grieving separately. i didn't want it to be that way. and i was trying to honour what he was going through. he was so angry with his mother about his childhood and i didn't try to talk him out of that. maybe that anger was all misplaced emotion, maybe it was fear of being without her for the rest of his life. i didn't understand that then. he has always kept his family at a distance because he's misunderstood; his mom came closest to knowing him. but it turns out he and his father have something in common now: they both divorced in their mid-to-late thirties, and it was following the death of a parent. i hope that, if anything, our loss can bring them closer together. 221211 ... tender_square i told him i had more compassion for us, that we weren't the only couples who struggled in this instance, and that many couples also called it quits during and after the pandemic. "death either brings couples closer, or pushes them apart," he echoed. "and we were really close before that happened." it almost sounds like an inevitability given the circumstances. 221221 ... past when he retired, he declared he would get into shape and adventure. his children looked at each and rolled their eyes. they decided to support him through the disappointment to come while not trying make said disappointment come sooner than they new it would. he proved them wrong. he bought all the kit for canoe camping and began doing easy trips with a friend. in time he developed a real knack for the activity and would go out on solo adventures for a week at a time. quickly his favourite time of year was that moveable holy day of outdoorsmen known as "ice out" -- when the ice finally thawed on the rivers into the backcountry, opening the interior to the adventurous. his kids were incredulous at first and then excited and regeared their support from preparing to help him weather disappointment to joining him on some of his less ambitious trips. years passed, their father got older but kept his calendar. he upgraded his gear (though his kids wondered how, considering the pension buyout was no where near as generous as he was promised throughout his long career on the assembly line). he became lean, hard, and fit. his acerbic wit only sharpened. then, at the end of a week-long trip, he didn't come home. he didn't answer his phone. his car was still in the parking lot. it took the rangers and police less than a day to find him. "he didn't make it to his first stop," an officer calmly explained to his children. "he set up camp and as far as we could tell got in his pajamas, climbed into his sleeping bag, fell asleep and didn't wake up." his daughter broke the silence. "was...was he whole? it was a week in the woods. can we see the body?" the officer smiled sadly and pulled on his lapel. "his tent was undisturbed and we have enough to make a positive identification. you do not need to see him unless you insist." they read into the statement what they needed to and agreed not to go to the morgue. later they discovered the source of his funds: an insured but maxed out line of credit (he made minimum payments but clearly never intended to pay it off). years later, at the fateful campsite, his children gathered and spread his ashes. they talked about the good times of his later years, and the bad times of the rest. they wondered how this man they knew for so long as an embittered husk had such passion held in reserve for decades. they lit their inheritance, a handful of joints found on his body and kept in the back of the freezer for this moment, and fell into silence. 221221 ... lycanthrope when both your parents die, it's like the globe being pulled off of a snow-globe. Some sense of identity and place is unraveled, returned to air and gravity - you become unsuspended. 230120 what's it to you? who go blather from