Yes, it is widely known where I was when I learned of my father’s suicide. And my letter to the strangers in Whole Foods that cared for me has traveled far and wide. But what I haven’t written about or even talked very openly about, is what it was like for me to try and return to that very same Whole Foods weeks after that tragic morning.

But I’m finally writing about that part of my struggle and the deep imprint of trauma that accompanied me on that first visit back to the store.

Approaching the entrance, my legs felt impossibly heavy, as my body begged me to retreat. I was determined to beat grief at it’s own game. When I stepped inside, though, so too did the traumatic imprint of my father’s suicide….

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