With great tenderness, poet and critic Robert Peters recalls the brief life and sudden death of his son Richard, a four-year-old called "Feather" by his sister Meredith and brother Rob. Feather returns home ill one day from nursery school, spends the afternoon in bed with his father and his stuffed toy seal, and dies that evening. Looking back after decades on that February day in 1960, when the skinned knees, colds, and fevers of childhood were obliterated by the unthinkable--fatal meningitis--Peters sees with harrowing clarity the image of that little boy in the tugboat pajamas lying still on a gurney, one bare foot visible at the edge of the sheet. He recalls his anger, his confusion: "What shall I do with my hands?" Feather: A Child's Death and Life is an album of poetic and sometimes visceral snapshots: portraits of a family, a house, a strained marriage, a father reading poems to his children, a young academic struggling to establish himself, Peters catches his family in moments of almost transcendent joy and crushing grief. The children's happiness on Christmas morning, in summer at a Canadian lake, or ice skating is shadowed by lessons in accepting death: a succession of pet turtles, mice, and goldfish succumb; Dad butchers the Thanksgiving turkey, nicknamed "Gobble," in the snowy backyard. The fourth book in Robert Peters' series of memoirs, Feather not only illuminates the lives of father and child, but also reflects a moment in the life of a writer, as Peters' grief for his son finds expression in his first collection of poetry, Songs for a Son.

This book is for everyone who has felt the loss of someone they love. I truly hope you find joy in the small things in life, and the signs you receive from your loved ones. Colorful illustrations help tell the emotional story.

When Finn finds a feather he believes was sent by his deceased brother, Hamish, his mother and teacher are not excited but his friend Lucas helps him find great joy in Hamish's gift.

Here he is, husband and father, scruffy romantic, a shambolic scholar--a man adrift in the wake of his wife's sudden, accidental death. And there are his two sons who like him struggle in their London apartment to face the unbearable sadness that has engulfed them. The father imagines a future of well-meaning visitors and emptiness, while the boys wander, savage and unsupervised. In this moment of violent despair they are visited by Crow--antagonist, trickster, goad, protector, therapist, and babysitter. This self-described "sentimental bird," at once wild and tender, who "finds humans dull except in grief," threatens to stay with the wounded family until they no longer need him. As weeks turn to months and the pain of loss lessens with the balm of memories, Crow's efforts are rewarded and the little unit of three begins to recover: Dad resumes his book about the poet Ted Hughes; the boys get on with it, grow up. Part novella, part polyphonic fable, part essay on grief, Max Porter's extraordinary debut combines compassion and bravura style to dazzling effect. Full of angular wit and profound truths, Grief Is the Thing with Feathers is a startlingly original and haunting debut by a significant new talent.

In this thoughtful story of loss and recovery a young boy's happy life is interrupted when his grandfather passes away. Suddenly his world is full of big questions and difficult emotions. Will things ever be normal again? For a time he struggles with his thoughts and feelings. Then one day, during a chance encounter on the subway, he makes a wonderful new connection...

Amazon's Best Biographies and Memoirs of the Year List A moving celebration of what Bill Hayes calls "the evanescent, the eavesdropped, the unexpected" of life in New York City, and an intimate glimpse of his relationship with the late Oliver Sacks. "A beautifully written once-in-a-lifetime book, about love, about life, soul, and the wonderful loving genius Oliver Sacks, and New York, and laughter and all of creation."--Anne Lamott Bill Hayes came to New York City in 2009 with a one-way ticket and only the vaguest idea of how he would get by. But, at forty-eight years old, having spent decades in San Francisco, he craved change. Grieving over the death of his partner, he quickly discovered the profound consolations of the city's incessant rhythms, the sight of the Empire State Building against the night sky, and New Yorkers themselves, kindred souls that Hayes, a lifelong insomniac, encountered on late-night strolls with his camera. And he unexpectedly fell in love again, with his friend and neighbor, the writer and neurologist Oliver Sacks, whose exuberance--"I don't so much fear death as I do wasting life," he tells Hayes early on--is captured in funny and touching vignettes throughout. What emerges is a portrait of Sacks at his most personal and endearing, from falling in love for the first time at age seventy-five to facing illness and death (Sacks died of cancer in August 2015). Insomniac City is both a meditation on grief and a celebration of life. Filled with Hayes's distinctive street photos of everyday New Yorkers, the book is a love song to the city and to all who have felt the particular magic and solace it offers.

As Gerbert prepares for his final migration, his family rallies around him to make his remaining time loving and special. Gerbert finds a way to show his flock that he will always be with them. Includes a one-page Note to Readers and an online Note with additional information useful for parents, caregivers, grandparents, siblings, and teachers.