I Talk Aloud to My Dead Mom.

My mother is dead. She’s been gone for almost three years now, and yet, I still speak to her. Aloud. My lone voice greets the air with a “Hey, mom,” when her presence feels particularly strong. Or an “I love you,” after her memory springs vivid. Her spirit lives in and around me and so … Continue reading I Talk Aloud to My Dead Mom.

The Pause

This is a grief blog. The pages intended for sharing the hard journey of stitching oneself together anew after things fall apart. However, grief feels distant this morning. My little family (read: the boys and me) is on a summer vacation. We’re staying with friends in a house perched on a bay filled with boats. … Continue reading The Pause

Recovering

At least once a day a friend, colleague, or stranger asks, “How are you?” My normal response is “fine,” or “good,” or any other terse platitude that fills conversation. Today, because I’m feeling raw and brutally honest, I would say “I’m recovering.” Recovering from my last chapter in life and recovering the next one. The … Continue reading Recovering

Waking Up To Grief

There’s a surreal moment that happens again and again when grieving. It occurs after sleep. Falling asleep is hard enough, and yet waking up feels harder still. That’s when reality comes back into focus. The reality of a life you don’t want. The reality that you’re in free fall. The daunting task of making it … Continue reading Waking Up To Grief

Mother and Father-Out-Law

I’m a word nerd. I love the sound of words and how the varying combinations of consonants and vowels have unique and specific meaning. But sometimes English fails me. I’m left scrounging for a concept or word that doesn’t exist. For example, there’s no word to describe sunlight sparkling on the ocean. There’s no word … Continue reading Mother and Father-Out-Law

A Letter To My Exhausting Children

Dear children, You are exhausting and relentless and I’m eternally grateful for this. Every morning, at least one of you thumps down the hall into my bedroom. You climb in quietly beside me before twisting like a pretzel on spit, your elbows and knees prodding me erratically. Or, you stand next to the bed and … Continue reading A Letter To My Exhausting Children