My father rode down King Street for the last time just before noon on Saturday, May 27.
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Dad’s Last Ride
Category: Family
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My Father’s Eulogy
John Peter Illo never learned to swim in water, yet he swam at odds with the cultural flow, cross grain to the tide.
The pictures on our bedroom wall each contain at least one memory—a captured spirit or ghost, if you will.
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One Hundred and Twenty Hours
One hundred and twenty hours after my mother took her last breath, we gathered around a deep hole and covered her casket in roses.
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Women in Black
The water shimmers baby blue beneath a blushing pink sky and it seems Bob and I are the only people on earth.