A Bigger World
I had one of those moments this morning where a thought became crystal clear. If I had never experienced hard things – the hardest being the burial my child – I would not be enlarged to move ahead to do big things. (more…)
Do You Dream?
“What if money was no object?” That’s the introductory opening line for a dream to unfold. Can you let yourself go there? Can you be vulnerable enough to share where a big dream would take you? (more…)
Scars of Gold
Sixteen years ago today, the eyes of the world watched in horror as catastrophic acts of terrorism brought down the twin towers of the World Trade Centre, struck the Pentagon, and crashed an airliner in rural Pennsylvania. 2, 977 lives were lost in this senseless savagery. (more…)
Past or Present Tense?
Do I speak of him in past tense or present tense?
It confuses people. Yet, he is never gone from me. I hold him close, I feel him without his physical body here. But that, too, is confusing for someone who has never been in my place of loss. (more…)
A look at pain
Do you remember pain once it’s over?
I’m sitting in that question. The pain of birthing my children, I recall, dissolved as soon after I was smitten in the crush of love. The pain faded from memory, where it would never be an influencing factor in the hope of having another. (more…)
Out of sight, out of mind
At the lowest points in my grieving, I had wanted it to be that way. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much each day. The daily longings for Davis were overwhelming. But I was more terrified of what it would be like if I were to forget him.
Mending grief for ten years has taught me that out of sight is most definitely not out of mind. The memories of my son became vivid. There were daily reminders that he had been a beautiful gift to our family circle. A profound sense of gratitude took hold.
Love is everlasting. He is not lost to me. I hold him closely, deep inside. It’s from this place that I stay hopeful and re-discover who I am. It’s from here that I move forward.
An Important History
There were two books before this one. Both still sit on the shelf, half-finished.
Just Below The Surface was an examination of loss and longing following the deaths of my Dad and my Grandpa, with their funerals only weeks apart. A year later, my younger brother and Grandma passed away, months apart. We were torn apart, grenaded, as we sat shell-shocked at the first Christmas dinner table, where all four were missing. We had to breathe deeply and swallow hard. (more…)