Olympians, wizards, and mortals marveled when I, the son of order, married chaos in a Milpitas, California church, but when she died, no one marveled about my mourning. They should have.

Over six months had passed since my wonderful Vedi’s death, and my grief sat between the first two stages–denial and anger. Anger crested the horizon like a would-be rising sun, but the earth in my head stood still for a reason I dreaded discovering, keeping that angry sun from reaching higher.