The phone rings. There’s a rap at the door. The doctor urges, “Sit down.” A policeman or surgeon or mother hands you the news.
You don’t even have time to wave goodbye to your old life, to claw and scurry for it as you’re thrust into this new, unwished for world.
At first, the loss is everything — a hot, swirling sun that churns through the core of you. You see nothing but this glaring sun; try to…
