Mama This is my favorite photo of us. I wish I had one that showed your face at this moment but I know that mine was only mirroring yours. You were smiling, full of…
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See this little dandelion, half torn, half scattered? It can feel like this, walking through grief. It can be such a delicate, tenuous process.In a moment I can be undone. My insides show through…
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Dear Mama, How I miss you. Did you see the lanterns we sent off for you that November night not long after you stepped into glory? Maybe not. Our lanterns must have been dimmed…
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Remember those red chenille pillows you bought me from Pottery Barn, Mama? The puppy shredded them. And although I didn’t want to go without you, I went back to Pottery Barn today to…
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Grief can feel like this. It has become difficult to see clearly — difficult to even think clear thoughts. I forget things. I put things that are supposed to go in the closet into…
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I have this handful of pictures of Katie that I took on a snowy day in February, barely two months before the accident that would take her life. These photos that I took of…
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The red tulips that I planted for my dad came up last week. A dear friend gave me the bulbs shortly after my dad passed away last summer. It was the perfect gift. Red…
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How can I begin to share this story of such incredible grace and joy? I am overwhelmed again and again as I recall the events that have occurred this week, this year, concerning this…