I remember being enamored in my undergraduate days with the philosophy of beauty for beauty’s sake. I was undeniably drawn to the idea that beauty had inherent worth despite its alleged lack of utilitarian value. I even disputed this idea, arguing that beauty as a psychological construct serves to orient volition towards the good, as…
One of the unanticipated and under-discussed consequences of grief is improved acting ability. By this, I mean that the more time that passes since the death of your loved one, the more proficient you become at convincing the world that you are stable and functional. If you have other children, your ability to act may…
In the early days of my grief, back before Cecilia’s diagnosis–before I even knew she was blind–I texted my big sister that even though Cecilia wasn’t Lizzy, she was still a world unto herself, still worth dedicating my whole life and being to. It was an important emotional milestone for me and one that has…
In January of 2019, I lay prostrate in a dimmed radiology room with Lizzy perched like a parrot in the crook of my arm. Her fingers curiously followed the mysterious path of the doppler as the rhythm of Cecilia’s uterine heartbeat filled the room. “Yep, it’s a girl,” said the radiologist, showing us the dual…
On April 16, 1879, St. Bernadette Soubirous of Lourdes died at age 35. She was always a sickly child, barely surviving the cholera epidemic of 1855 and suffering from asthma all throughout her short life. Towards the end, she developed tuberculosis, culminating in a tubercular tumor on her right knee. According to the nuns who…
I spent my undergraduate years insatiably devouring mystical and sacred texts from world religions, desperately hoping to find answers to the inexhaustible questions of life. Among the most important of these questions to me was the nature and meaning of suffering. Buddhist teaching frustrated and repelled me because it advocated eliminating attachment as a way…
Like most sighted toddlers, Lizzy was a wonderful mimic. She loved doing all the grown up things that I would do. When I brushed my hair, she wanted to brush her hair; when I put on lip balm, she thrilled when I next bent to apply it to her tiny, pursed lips. When I swept…
In recent weeks, I have been forced to conclude that happiness is something that sort of sneaks up on you. I think I reject the idea that you can “deserve” happiness or even pursue happiness as though it’s some sort of end in itself. I rather suspect that happiness is instead a byproduct of 1)…
On Wednesday, Cecilia will turn fifteen months old. Her tiny feet are still turned inwards, monkey-like, and her fragile ankles struggles to support the weight of her growing body. She works her little heart out every day while practicing standing, taking steps, shifting her weight, balancing, turning, and clasping onto my arms and fingers to…
This past week, I took a continuing education course in bioethics from my graduate school, the Pontifical John Paul II Institute in Washington, DC. I’m not sure what I expected from this course, but I don’t think I expected it to address the heart of my grief so acutely. I suppose it was inevitable to…