Fix

content/seasons/autumn.md

@@ -139,7 +139,7 @@ We think of it. We don't smile when we do.
 
 [^26-1]: Every time I take the long way home from the store because traffic sucks or highway 2 is too much, I think about stopping by the mosque that I pass and asking about this. It's always also couched in that selfish desire to also ask after a framework for dealing with grief.
 
-    When I was talking about lack of framework in the context of this essay, a friend sent me a link to a tweet wherein the poster states "An american *(sic)* is told a thousand different ways that experiencing grief is abnormal, improper, and something to be done in private on your own time." \parencite{grief1} This is stated in contrast to the Jewish practice of sitting shiva and the following sheloshim which provides a structured procedure for engaging with grief. Another user replied that this might just be a white, middle-class American thing: "White Anglo Saxon Protestant based communities may lack rituals for mourning. I don't know that world. But everyone from Black Americans to Latinx to AAPI to ethnic white  communities (Polish, Italian, Ukrainian etc) have ways to mourn that aren't exactly hidden." {{% cite source="grief2" %}}.
+    When I was talking about lack of framework in the context of this essay, a friend sent me a link to a tweet wherein the poster states "An american *(sic)* is told a thousand different ways that experiencing grief is abnormal, improper, and something to be done in private on your own time." {{% cite source="grief1" %}} This is stated in contrast to the Jewish practice of sitting shiva and the following sheloshim which provides a structured procedure for engaging with grief. Another user replied that this might just be a white, middle-class American thing: "White Anglo Saxon Protestant based communities may lack rituals for mourning. I don't know that world. But everyone from Black Americans to Latinx to AAPI to ethnic white  communities (Polish, Italian, Ukrainian etc) have ways to mourn that aren't exactly hidden." {{% cite source="grief2" %}}.
     
     So here am I, bathed in white cultural protestantism and puritan work ethics, having nothing to hang my grief on but a desire for resolution, for even a hint at a framework. Five years after Margaras's death, when I was still trying to process what life without him would actually be like, I wrote:
     
@@ -157,7 +157,7 @@ We think of it. We don't smile when we do.
 
 [^28]: Who knows how much of my skittishness around winter is a me thing or an us thing. Spare me a little longer.
 
-[^29]: After all, I think our well was out into Autumn, or maybe it had *just* recovered. We were borrowing water from the neighbors for the dogs --- Falcon, who was dying, and Zephyr, who probably knew. I had burnt out so hard at work I had to take a leave of absence, had to spend sixteen hours a week in therapy, and on going back to work realized I still hated everything. I'm unsure even now whether life would have been easier without that grief. There is now dialectic between you being alive, of course, but there is this dialectic within me being unsure of whether or not I've processed your death.[^30-1] Sometimes I have, and sometimes I have to stop writing this essay for five days because looking at it makes me cry.
+[^29]: After all, I think our well was out into Autumn, or maybe it had *just* recovered. We were borrowing water from the neighbors for the dogs --- Falcon, who was dying, and Zephyr, who probably knew. I had burnt out so hard at work I had to take a leave of absence, had to spend sixteen hours a week in therapy, and on going back to work realized I still hated everything. I'm unsure even now whether life would have been easier without that grief. There is now dialectic between you being alive, of course, but there is this dialectic within me being unsure of whether or not I've processed your death.[^29-1] Sometimes I have, and sometimes I have to stop writing this essay for five days because looking at it makes me cry.
 
 [^29-1]: ⚠ Ditto with Falcon. Sometimes I'm able to make it an entire day not thinking about her, and then I'll be laid low by an evening of flashbacks, the way she slumped to the side, just how long her body stayed warm...