Words for the Journey

She had broken wings. I do not know how they first got broke. The wings of a sweet little angel. I met earlier than expected. She tried to fly on her own but could not.She needed help. Love could not mend her. My love did not break through. It took a stronger love to rescue her. From herself.

My 21 year old son, Christopher Robin Hotchkiss, was shot four times with a handgun on March 21, 1996, by his school roommate, Mark James Taylor, because Christopher put dishes in the wrong cabinet. 

I would like to take some time and over a few articles talk to parents who have lost a child but have other living children and talk a little about the sibling survivor experience to give you and idea of what they are going through. 

Listening is tough - especially when the listening involves a tragedy or an emotional situation that is not fun to hear about.In fact, listening can be a painful thing to do, especially if you're wired to be an empathetic, caring person. When someone experiences a loss, and you allow them to pour their heart out to you, it can be emotional for you as the listener too.

Grief after a suicide has a great deal in common with grief after any death, regardless of how the person dies, but suicide bereavement is also unique.

I have always maintained that every parent should get to talk about their children, whether they are with them or in Heaven.  Earthly parents talk about their kids ALL of the time: the sports, the accomplishments, the milestones, the challenges, the annoyances, etc. 

 Firstly a little bit about me and my story although I so wish this story was that of fiction but, unfortunately it’s not.

My Unconventional Mentor

Life at Saddleback Church rarely slows down for Pastor Rick Warren and his wife Kay.

A few days ago I received a text from a woman I was on friendly terms with back in Vermont.  She is a more than just an acquaintance but not quite in my inner circle.  We all have people like that in our lives.  They fill the spaces between family and close friends and make up the majority of the patch work that is our own personal community.  If it weren’t for

In November, it will be 35 years since my father died by suicide. He is still with me as much as he ever was, and paradoxically, he is also more absent than ever. My emotional relationship with him has changed and evolved more during the time since he died than it did when he was alive, and I daresay that I understand him better than I understand any other human being I have ever known.

It started last Sunday.  I went to my brother-in-laws for a BBQ.  It went well but I still felt alone.  I kept waiting to hear Ray's voice, his laughter and feel his arm around me.  I went home.  As I was going through my emails, I heard a knock.  Molly started barking.  I checked the door, no one was there.  I sat down and started looking through Faceboo