A t some point on Christmas morning the telephone rings and I always think happily, “Oh that’s Lar calling to say Merry Christmas.” That was our habit for all those years after we left home. Then, rising from chair or bed to grab the phone, I drop my hand. This cannot be my brother calling. Larry is dead.
Yes, a story about death at Christmas. Maybe that seems wrong, but it’s a fact that in the midst of bright lights, and even COVID-constrained celebrations, one in four Americans are grieving this week. And likely even more because of the pandemic.
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