An old soul is a child with an adult's job. You grew up with fear as your navigator, and you still use it. A truck door at five o'clock, and a child who can tell the time without a clock. Years later a different house, and the same cold hands. This is about the equipment that got installed early: the scan that runs before you have decided anything, the compliment that was really a job, and the one person nobody is assigned to check on.

Read it on the page: https://www.resiliencerising.ca/the-hands-know-first/?utm_source=podcast&utm_medium=audio&utm_campaign=essay-06-hands&utm_content=episode-notes

Written by the author and narrated in a digital copy of the author's own voice. Music: Memories by Adriel Dos Santos, from Pixabay.

A lost friendship. There is no word for what you are. Not widowed, not divorced, not even estranged, exactly. A friend who mattered is still out there, and nobody is going to ask how you are doing with it. This is about that loss: the photograph the phone hands you, the two accounts of the same years, and the future nobody counts.

Read it on the page: https://www.resiliencerising.ca/the-photograph-doesnt-know/?utm_source=podcast&utm_medium=audio&utm_campaign=essay-05-photograph&utm_content=episode-notes

Written by the author and narrated in a digital copy of the author's own voice. Music: Memories by Adriel Dos Santos, from Pixabay.

Grief. Has time carried on without you? When someone dies, the world gathers for a week, maybe two. And then, because it is built to, it ends. This is about the grief that begins after that, in the third month and the second year, and about making new memories with someone who is gone.

Read it on the page: https://www.resiliencerising.ca/ice-cream-at-the-headstone/?utm_source=podcast&utm_medium=audio&utm_campaign=essay-04-headstone&utm_content=episode-notes

Written by the author and narrated in an AI-generated copy of the author's own voice. Music: Memories by Adriel Dos Santos, from Pixabay.