“It still happens now. Though the phrasing is different since I’m an adult, the message is still the same: You are lucky. You are living a golden and blessed life. You couldn’t ask for anything more. In recent years, beneath my acquiescent nod and affirming smile, a new question has been churning. Where, in all of this, is the space for grief? Where, in your definition of me, is the space for me?”
