On the one year anniversary of my cousin's death, his older sister wrote that the French version of "I miss you", translates to, "you are missing from me." She shared that this is how she feels about her little brother since his passing. He is missing from our lives. And while the pain dulls a… Continue reading You Are Missing From Me
If Mothers Day is hard, I understand this too well. There were many Mothers Days when I couldn't call my mom. There were years of frustration, pain, and anger. Even after her death I'm still coming to terms with how our relationship did and didn't work and so for me, Mothers Day is hard. My… Continue reading If Mothers Day Is Hard
I'm starting a new series here where I'm sharing old posts from past blogs and giving them new life. I published this in July 2015, just a few months after my mother's cancer diagnosis. Rereading these words, almost three years later, is a surreal experience. And I wanted to share them. "The Faucet Is Leaking"… Continue reading Memory Lane: My Faucet Is Leaking
I didn't sleep great last night. I go through phases with this book where I'm great and I'm writing happy stuff and then a chapter later the shit has hit the fan again. Like life. Life is like that. A few days ago I wrote this scene where a few of the characters are together… Continue reading Writing About Death Is Hard
I remember writing frantic Facebook posts about the big things happening or potentially happening, hoping that by putting words to these dreams of bigger, greater things they might somehow become more real than layers of code splayed across my cell phone screen. Inevitably those flights of fancy and delusions of grandeur never materialized out of… Continue reading A Do Nothing B*tch
I never speed. I'm religiously faithful to speeding limits. I keep my hands at ten and two and scan the horizon for traffic signs and police. I'm cautious. When I test drove a sports car the salesman told me to open her up and see what she could do. I opted not to and instead… Continue reading The Space She Held
Reflecting on the things I've learned about my mother in the first year since her death.
The 30th and 31st years were hard. A dear family member lost to suicide. My mother lost to cancer. A baby lost to miscarriage. And a father lost to old age. Three funerals, one casket, two large urns, one small. One family caught in the middle, surrounded by heartbreak, tear stained cheeks because we can't… Continue reading My 32nd Year
Layers of makeup can't hide the pain of loss.
When grief takes on the form of a gnawing ache, rather than a sharp, stabbing pain.