Photo by Briana Tozour on Unsplash ~Kim Libertini There were tears in her eyes as she looked at me and said, “I don’t know if I am doing the right thing. The truth is I don’t know what to do or what to say. So I just go there. I do laundry or take the kids. Sometimes, I … Continue reading The Good Friend
Photo courtesy of Dollar Gill, Unsplash Do you remember the part in the book “Peter Pan” where Tinkerbell’s fairy light fades along with her life? She whispers to Peter that she thinks she would get better if children believed in fairies. “Do you believe in fairies?,” Peter asks the kids of Neverland. “Say quick that … Continue reading The Tinkerbell Effect of Believing in Yourself
Photo by Jordan Donaldson | @jordi.d on Unsplash~Kim LibertiniSome people give themselves titles and others earn them. I owe part of my title to the nurture of a woman who somehow managed to carry me through a war-ravaged country, in order to drop me off on the doorstep of an orphanage, with the hope that I would escape … Continue reading The Survivor
Boundaries are as much about what we keep out as let in. When it comes to grief, we frequently talk about building boundaries to prevent people from being prescriptive about how we grieve, telling us to move on, or threatening our fragile and momentary peace. These limits are important and good mostly as preventative measures … Continue reading Boundaries
I thought my Mom would hang around me after she died. I thought she would appear thick and tangible like a warm fog. I thought she would exist invisible yet present herself through messages and signs. But so many aspects of my mother’s passing are different than imagined, including how she shows up. Mostly she … Continue reading Mom Lives in Me
“I don’t feel trauma in your body,” said the massage therapist calmly. At the time, I was lying on my back with eyes closed, feeling Kerri’s expert fingers pressing a pressure point on the bottom of my left foot. “Really?” I said. “That’s great!” For the last half an hour Kerri and I had been … Continue reading Shake it Off
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.
