And that history - which had always felt far away when I was growing up - feels like it's upon us again now. They came of age during the civil rights movement. They both grew up in the Jim Crow-era South. I feel like I've been wearing it, carrying it more, you know, closer to the surface than usual for the last many months.Īnd it's done interesting things - because on one hand, I feel a deep wish to connect to my parents who are both gone, because I would love to know what they could tell me about having lived through. On how she's processing grief during the pandemic Highlights from our conversation are below. Her collection of poetry Life on Mars won a Pulitzer Prize, and her memoir Ordinary Light is, in part, a recollection of her mother's life and death. poet laureate, frequently addresses themes of loss and memory in her work. Smith reminded me in an interview recently: "We all have our own language for what we've lived and what loss feels like." Should we still set up a Christmas tree? Would we put up our mother's ornaments or her stocking? It took my family years for the holidays to feel celebratory and for us to figure out the best way to honor her - something we're constantly reassessing as our lives change and our families grow.Īnd this year, in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic, I lost an uncle, and not being able to gather with family to mourn him because of COVID-19 restrictions has given me new questions about how to meaningfully honor his life without the usual traditions to direct my grief.Īs the poet Tracy K. Instead, these holidays contracted, and it was just my sisters, my dad and me, each of us uncertain how to proceed as a unit.
We no longer gathered with her family for Thanksgiving or Christmas. When I was a kid, I watched the winter holidays shift for my family after my mother died.
Editor's note: This story was originally published in December 2020.
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