<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>How to Grieve a Parent on Sunday Evening Review</title><link>https://sundayeveningreview.com/tags/how-to-grieve-a-parent/</link><description>Recent content in How to Grieve a Parent on Sunday Evening Review</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Wed, 01 Jul 2026 06:00:00 -0500</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://sundayeveningreview.com/tags/how-to-grieve-a-parent/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Since You Asked: How to Grieve a Parent</title><link>https://sundayeveningreview.com/letters/how-to-grieve-a-parent/</link><pubDate>Wed, 01 Jul 2026 06:00:00 -0500</pubDate><guid>https://sundayeveningreview.com/letters/how-to-grieve-a-parent/</guid><description>&lt;p>&lt;strong>Dear Lorraine,&lt;/strong>&lt;/p>
&lt;p>My mother died four months ago. She was eighty-one, which everyone mentions as though it should change something, and which doesn&amp;rsquo;t. She went from a diagnosis to gone in six weeks, and quickly doesn&amp;rsquo;t feel lucky from the inside.&lt;/p>
&lt;p>I thought I would be better by now. Instead I&amp;rsquo;m standing in my kitchen at eight in the morning, crying because a song came on that she used to hum while she did the dishes. I&amp;rsquo;m still buried in her paperwork (the estate, the apartment, the doctor bills), and every form I sign feels like I&amp;rsquo;m agreeing to something I wouldn&amp;rsquo;t agree to if anyone asked me.&lt;/p></description></item></channel></rss>