When Words Are Too Much Work
Some days it’s a struggle to even reply to an email, much less start one. Some days I look at the text message on my phone and wonder how long I can ignore it.
It’s not that I don’t want to talk. It’s that using my words is too hard some days. If you’ve never experienced it, you’re unlikely to understand it.
It’s not a cataclysmic event propelling me into a place of quiet. It can be old memories flooding back, creeping into corners I thought had been cleared out.
Small things, little things. Mundane life, death, grief, panic,… Continue reading
Imagine
Imagine a world in which your children only were tucked into beds under your roof two weeks out of every month.
Imagine a world in which mornings did not always include a sweet sleepy face saying “Good morning Mommy”.
Imagine a world, in which your baby did, said and tried new things for the first time and you hear about it afterwards.
Imagine not being able to see or touch the soft hair of the person you gave birth to, because the court says it’s not your day.
Imagine walking out of a house, hearing your child screaming for you,… Continue reading
New Normal
Last night I slept alone.
It was time.
Gone are the days of turning over at night, taking comfort in knowing there is someone there beside me. Someone who would hold and protect me. Someone with whom I could share my fear after a night mare, or to talk me down during a panic attack.
Truth be told that person hasn’t existed in a long time. We’ve just been two people sharing a bed. No true connection.
As much as I would like to turn back the clock, and have a do-over, I have to keep moving forward. If… Continue reading
Quicksand
Yesterday I lay on my bed, staring out the open window. Outside there is a plum tree and tiny little birds were zipping in and out of it’s branches, chirping. I wondered how many more times I would get to see their little show.
I spend a lot of time on this bed. It’s one thing that will remain mine after this messy division is complete. I am clinging hard to it. It is concrete in a world of quicksand. Crushing me as I sink deeper. One minute something is mine, the next I realize it is not.
The fridge… Continue reading
Protected: Statistic
365
365. The number of days Maddie has been gone.
I think of her every day. I have a picture on my desk at work, courtesy of the lovely Casey, of the balloon launch after Maddie’s funeral. It’s a daily reminder to me of love, loss, and gratitude.
So much has happened in the last year. My baby has become a toddler. She walks, she runs, she climbs. She talks, she whines, she cries. Last night was one of the worst meltdowns I’ve ever seen her have. Ever. A year ago I might have thrown my hands up in desperation… Continue reading
All in the Details – For Layla Grace
My circle of friends on twitter is in pain today. For months we’ve all been watching, waiting and praying that a little girl with cancer would beat the odds. For about the last month, we knew she was going to lose her battle. Today, a sweet little girl, not much older than my Ava has flown away to be with angels.
I chose not to follow updates from her parents. Too fresh on the heels of Maddie’s passing and dealing with Ava’s own issues, I felt it was too much for me to handle. I come off as a real… Continue reading
What Will Always Be Missing
Today is just another Tuesday. Except it is not just another Tuesday. Today marks the 20th time another year has rolled around without my dad. Another year that I mourn for what might have been. What should have been.
I don’t grieve in the same way I did 20 years ago. Time has softened my emotions. Grief that once was sharp and raw has now become dull and scarred over. Events, smells and sounds can bring back the memories, but they no longer have the power to cripple me as they once did.
Mostly now, I look at… Continue reading
Twenty Years On, Part 3
I remember it was gray. It was January, after all. I don’t remember if it was cold. I remember the minister speaking in generalities about my dad. He didn’t really know my dad all that well, seeing as how my dad was not a churchgoer. He simply hadn’t been able.
The one memory that stands out clearly from the day we buried my father was that I prayed hard to just get through the day without breaking down. So many eyes were upon my mother and me. Everyone looking at us, whispering in hushed tones.
I remember scattered fragments of… Continue reading
I write here
I’ve Been Featured On:
I Guess I Don’t Suck
