I am very saddened by the suicide of poet Deborah Digges. Her book on a journey with her difficult teenaged son is one of the most courageous pieces of writing I know of – only just slightly less courageous than the journey itself. It gave me hope when I had little faith in my own much critisized mothering.
In recognizing Digges’ death, Edward Byrne posted this, written by Digges, on his blog, One Poet’s Notes:
“Once I asked myself, when was I happy?
I was looking at a February sky.
When did the light hold me and I didn’t struggle?”
And this. I can do no better:
And here’s reaction from Tufts University where Digges taught.