Cold Brew Chronicles: Number 3

There’s a hardened, even somewhat morbid sense of humor that develops inside of you when you lose a parent at such a young age. It becomes easier to make jokes about death than to talk seriously about it. In response, Zach told me a story about the time he really knew mom loved me. For background, my mom died when I was six, just a few months shy of my seventh birthday. The story goes something like this. We were at some cabin or camp ground, and my dad was throwing me up in the air and catching me, likely giving me a kiss on the cheek or forehead as I fell from the sky into his arms. Looking on, my mom laughed and celebrated the joys of family, easy and cheap vacation spots, and her young boys and spritely husband. <a href="https://matthewrauschenbach.medium.com/cold-brew-chronicles-number-3-6895dce0b5c">Read More</a>