I love the Internet. I love email. The fact that I can say hello to five friends across the US, in Canada, in Europe and perhaps have only minutes go by before I hear back from them is a gift. I can let them know that I’m thinking of them right … now … when a phone call isn’t always possible. What blessing.
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I like to think of myself as an empathetic person who is able to feel compassion for people in...
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The process of dealing with grief starts with talking about it. Whether the loss is accident, disease or suicide. Sharing grief is one way to process what has happened.
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Are you one of those daughters who always wanted to grow up to be like your mom? Email me, we need to talk!
While my mother had some awesome traits–the knack of laughing so hard she’d nearly stop breathing, the ability to make math look easy, the skill to create the flakiest pie crust–I never wanted to be her.
Older sister Jackie and I agree: Our problems in life are directly related to our parents and the way they brought us up. There was too much humor, fun, and good times — we thought that was reality. We’ve discovered that the world does not operate that way, but the lessons our folks taught us have served us well.
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I’m a habitual person. Maybe all of us are, even if we don’t want to admit it and have it be seen...
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My life is not justified—not fully at least. Not yet. If not at 59, will it be at 69, 79?...
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I love to mow. The first summer with my husband, he paid folks to take care of the yard. With...
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First written for mom at her passing in August 2008. Miss you, you little minx. Happy Mother’s...
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“What a dad!” That’s what my siblings and I continue to say about our father—his passing hasn’t diminished the impact he has on our lives. Grief can be too encompassing, holding you in and keeping you in its darkness. Or grief can be a celebration of a person’s life, of the legacy they bequeathed you. Here’s a blog about what Dad meant to me. I hope it helps you get to know him, just a bit.
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Losing my mom to her battle with lung cancer brought a whole different dimension to facing the firsts without her–my birthday, Christmas, our parents’ anniversary, Mother’s Day and her birthday … and every one since.
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Being drenched with freezing cold water, there is a moment, perhaps only one second of precise time, where you literally ache and feel that yes, my heart might stop beating.
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