“And then you get turned into ashes!” the little girl howled, incredulous. Soon the other 6-year-olds were laughing hysterically, too. I looked around the circular table as we cut shapes from colorful paper and drew with glitter markers. These children had all lost loved ones: a grandparent, a sibling, mostly a parent. Twice a month we made art and talked around grief. My role was to facilitate their conversation, let them lead. So when they started joking about cremation, I laughed, too. It felt good, actually. And, I mean, cremation was kind of hilarious.

A few years earlier. I was taking a break from college to backpack alone in Greece and Turkey. Before leaving, I began to panic: The last time I’d left the country, to go to South Africa two years before, my father had died suddenly. I was scared something would happen again. Don’t be silly, I told myself. Don’t be silly, friends said, supportively. Don’t be silly, my therapist said, reassuringly. Don’t be silly, my mom said, lovingly. Everyone will be fine.

Five weeks into Turkey my mom died suddenly, too.

While losing a parent at any age, especially as a young child, is enormous and profound, your 20s are a particularly odd time to become an orphan. You’re too old to receive the structural support a child receives — no one finds you alternate parents or makes sure you have a roof over your head, food to eat. You don’t garner the same sympathy. But in some ways, you’re more like a child than an adult. Our teen brains don’t fully become adult ones until we’re 25.

My friend Tess and I started a two-person club, in jest — OHO — Orphans and Half Orphans. Tess was the half orphan, me the full member. I didn’t know anyone my age who’d lost both parents. I felt like the star of a freak show who spoke a barbaric language. In high school I studied Ancient Greek and learned that the word barbaric comes from “barbaros,” to disparagingly describe foreigners whose language sounded to Greeks like “bar bar bar.” In becoming an orphan in my 20s I was a barbarian — an alien with an alien tongue, able to shut up a room with my story. No one knew what to say. I barely knew what to say.