In the summers of my childhood, I would spend some weeks with my father in a college town nestled in the pines of East Texas. The house he shared with my grandmother had a sloping yard with spilling roils of ivy that led on one side into the untamed forest…

The road through grief and healing from grandson to grandmother.

I was at my desk in the office where I work in downtown Manhattan, texting my mother in San Antonio, TX and nervously optimistic about my grandmother’s prognosis. “Let me know what I can do when we know more,” I said.

“I will.” my mom replied. …

Matt Becher

Arts fundraiser, illustrator, and freelance writer. Featured on, Fatherly, and others. Three-time @quora Top Writer.

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