Growing up, I felt as though I belonged to two families — the one I had before my father died, and the one that we became. Following my father’s death from a five-year battle with cancer, I created myths. He died when I was aged five, so I believed that…

Towards the end of my mother’s life, our ability to communicate dried up. Like George Costanza, I made mental notes of talking points to cover when I made my weekly call. The free-flowing dialogue we had once enjoyed had evaporated. …