Opinion: Grief, glitter and Ghost Ship — a victim’s mother finds solace in the small things

Nine years.

“Mother, you can never have too much glitter!”

I laughed as I remembered Chelsea telling me that. She was putting the finishing touches on a middle school art project, and I was lecturing her on moderation, especially when it came to glitter.

That vision is never far from my mind. I was cleaning out my garage again, a never-ending chore that usually involves a reorganization of my priorities. While pulling some of Chelsea’s papers off a high shelf, a flurry of glitter flew into the air and covered me in a glimmering rainbow. If you know glitter, you know I’d be digging the stuff out of my hair, skin and clothes for weeks. Just the same, it made me smile.

And then something wonderful happened.

I didn’t think of the fire and unanswered screams for help; I thought of the glit