I dip my toe in the grief and slowly, slowly, start to swim through the familiar pain. It is exquisite, with sharp edges, piercing in new…
I try to wear this new lipstick, hoping it will bring me back to myself. Maybe vanity will be its own distraction. You are still you, I…
You will make it. Even at times when everything is wrong, when you are bewildered to find…
My sweet H, what November has taken from us, I cannot forgive. November is a knife to the heart with all of it’s golden red…
Your last day on Earth, we spent together as a family of four. You and your brother had a mild tummy bug, so we turned on Christmas movies. I sat…
In the first days of grief, you will fold in on yourself, you will bend and stretch and never feel at home. You will escape to your bed but…
On November 9, we were laying on baby blue bedding in baby blue pajamas, blowing kisses to your dad and brother, away on their camping trip…
Wherever you are, I hope that it is:
“Can I hold your hand,” you ask me in the movie theater, and I blush with all the teenage love I feel for you. We hold hands and I still, to this…
