Writing has been the balm within my grief. The place where I feel it, look at it, and transmute it into words. My wish is that these lines help you feel seen in your grief too.
I am here with you, in this.
What you call being strong, I call being in shock.
What you call inspirational, I call survival.
W...
Three-and-a-half years ago my life fell apart. It opened up at the seams and my insides were exposed...
How strange.
How strange to go through a trauma, pack a life into some boxes, drive and drive, and ...
You figure out slowly, how to balance living here, with being forever connected to there.
I’ve alwa...
On Christmas, it will have been twenty-one months since you left.
We held hands in the darkness and ...
It’s not the pharmacy that I usually go to. But I take a different route home and find myself in fro...
I met Bri when I was twenty-seven and I fell for him hard. We loved each other like crazy, we made a...
Since my Brian died nine months ago, my mother has asked me a few times what “processing” his death ...
My love, Brian, was an excellent driver. I mean, really excellent. When I met him, I absolutely hate...
Here’s the elephant in the room that makes widowhood different from other types of grief: Most widow...
Bri, you made everything fun. Do you remember that when you were dying, you asked me how we could ma...
It has been a week of intimately getting to know the bricks and mortar of grief.
My daughter has bee...
