by Lee Erickson Dusky hue of summer fading its light waiting for the pop boom and rattle of pyrotechnics that will start my heart and...

by Lee Erickson My beautiful Bulgarian bowl, given as a gift now lays shattered in pieces. Sharp shards destined to cut. The whole now...

by Lee Erickson there are a million garden projects conceived in the dead of winter big projects glorious projects glamorous projects...

By Lee Erickson Steven Bruns spent all morning of the mid-summer day of my tenth year, his eleventh year (although he was a grade behind...

by Lee Erickson His left foot was pointing East, East like where the sun rises. And as he was dying, I budded. When he died, I bloomed....

At our last Christmas together, my brother Randy and his family gave me a wooden cutting board for Christmas. And seven months later, he...

It was Saturday, March 16, 2002, 11 days after my brother Doug had killed himself and I was out for dinner with my brother Steve and his...

Several years ago, there had been a death of a beloved teacher at a school in a suburb of the Twin Cities. A colleague of mine and I were...

I have begun, when I’m weary and can’t decide an answer to a bewildering question to ask my dead friends for their opinion and the answer...

Donna Erickson had awoken early Tuesday, March 5, 2002 because she was determined to make a batch of raspberry jam. She had a five-quart...

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the...

As I pulled into the parking ramp of the BonTon department store, I knew it was going to be a bad day. I had contracted parking in the...

Several years ago, I attended a conference on suicide. Having lost my brother Doug to suicide in 2002, I have been interested in the...

I guess one of the most painful things about dealing with the death of my brother to suicide was this notion of what to do with the swirl...