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Anger

ANGER - When We Feel Like We Might Explode

“I might explode! I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry, not even close!” Mandy said, staring out the window with her hands on her hips.

Smile Because It Happened

Smile Because It Happened

When We Meet Again and Again

When We Meet Again and Again

#2… This is my second article on life, death, grief, and signs in a series whose quantity of writings is not quite clear at the moment.  I use the numbering sequence so I may keep track of the progression on the items I wish to share on these topics.

Return to Cherry Lane

Note:  I wrote the following first entry to The Grief Tool Box over a week ago, before submitting it.  Last night, I found a letter I had written 24 days after the death of our son.  My tone and attitude were quite different than that of the following message.  Back then I hated God… His “Plan” was godless and if it was a reflection of His/Her way of having some form of resp

A New Day

Spring awakens with the dawn of a new day. A new day that I get up and try to feel for my existence. It doesn't come. I'm here but I am not. Twenty eight months. I've come a long way but yet not so far. My needs are small in comparison but simplistically impossible. I want to see your beautiful face. Your twinkling eyes. Your quirky smile.

Muted Kaleidoscope

Muted darkness has given way to lightened shapes of distant colors. Today, I can see through a tunneled kaleidoscope of prismatic, disarranged but softly spoken whispers of change. Today, I stepped beside the hole. The black hole, the one that ingests you till you bleed blackness, the blackness that tears your soul into mortifying shards of glass. Cocooned.

We all grieve differently

I have always wanted to be a mother and encourage our children to be honest, caring, empathetic and great communicators.  All the parenting books never prepared me to help my three children grieve the unexpected loss of their father. His death was a shock- all three children helped thousands of searchers try find our Travis.

When Unspoken Grief Speaks

I turned 40 years old last week.  Today is the thirty-fifth anniversary of my mother’s death in a car accident.  For practically my whole life, the turning of the next year in my life and my mom’s death have been inextricably linked.  I can’t think of one without t

A Letter to Mama, if you're reading...

Mom,

Buck Up and Get Over It?

Buck up and get over it.

Yep, we’ve all heard some version of that. If we’re in the middle of a pity party, that might be good advice. If we’re hurting and in the midst of healing, however, it’s not very helpful.

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