Sometimes a deeply held story changes in a heartbeat. Or the cessation of one.
Christopher, a fellow parent in our intimate Waldorf community, died of a heart attack a few days after his 54th birthday while preparing dinner for his family. As we’d each had a daughter in the same class for 13 years, I knew Christopher in simple, consistent ways: attending parent meetings; co-volunteering at school events; dressed-up and handsome at the…
