Maybe the question isn’t always why, maybe the answer is simply “my”. Maybe there is power in not always asking why but being thankful for “my”.
The weekend after Luke’s funeral, I got a call from his Mom asking me if I wanted a peace lily from the service. I of course jumped at the opportunity, and in my car to go pick it up. I honestly felt honored she chose me to give something to and at the time I… Continue reading Just a Plant
It’s been awhile since my last official blog entry. I’ve been spending more and more time working on my poetry, which I love, but I’m horrible to share on all platforms. I’ve been sharing more via my socials which I’m sure is a blogger “no no” so I wanted to share a few of my… Continue reading Missing In Action
As I was getting ready this morning, I couldn’t help but to think of Luke, my heart was a little heavy. Special occasions of any kind can serve as triggers because they’re so memorable, just the date on the calendar…you know you shared it with your person, it cements the time they’ve been gone, or… Continue reading Balancing Grief on Special Occasions…
…I had to take a minute to process how profound his thoughts are. I could hardly believe how perceptive he was of the situation and how truly thoughtful he was in regards to it, how reflective.
When I got honest with myself and blocked out what other people might think , or say, once I stopped being afraid of being alone (because society makes you feel like this is the worst thing to be), I was free to put down something that really wasn’t meant for me. I set it down, walked away from it and best of all, never looked back.
So what if we’re not perfect? So what if we let people see who we really are, beyond the snapshots of Facebook and Instagram.
Here it is, only the beginning of January and I’m already starting to think about you. I am terrified of you. I beg you, February, be kinder to me this year than you were last, and I promise to meet you half way.
Cancer. I think we all love someone who has been impacted, or you know someone who loves someone, maybe you are that someone. I am someone who loved someone. My someone was 33 at diagnosis, and passed at the age of 34. As I sit here, a year and nearly nine months later I still… Continue reading The fight of his life…