“My dad owns every law firm in this province,” the lawyer’s daughter laughed after ramming her brand-new Tesla into my old Subaru

with three extra heartbeats and a sink full of dishes. When my sister, Lauren, died in a highway pileup outside Joliet, I did not have the luxury of becoming a person who fell apart in a graceful, cinematic way. Grief did not come to me as a violin soundtrack or a week hidden under blankets. It came with two little girls who needed breakfast, a legal continue reading …