In memory of Sam, March 2, 1998 – April 30, 2007. It was a ten-inch tall mini-tree in a small plastic pot that sat on the coffee table in the living room. Sprinkled with silver glitter and embellished with tiny silver ornaments. An impulse purchase at Target one December years […]
If I could get another chance
Son and Moon It is my death before my death, my time before my time It is my loss, my grief, my son, my way . . .
“Hope” is the thing with feathers
I have no more words. Let the soul speak With the silent articulation of a face. – Rumi
“Form is exactly emptiness, emptiness exactly form.” Buddhist “Heart of Perfect Wisdom Sutra” Sam, It is the year of the Monkey, the ninth of twelve animals in the Chinese zodiac cycle. And, the ninth year of living without you—and your monkey-hugs.
Months after Sam’s death, and shortly before he was gone too, my father, always trying to cheer me on, reassured me that I’d find joy again. I disagreed. I didn’t want joy, happiness. I was consumed with grief, and wanted to die too. He worried about this, I’m sure, which […]
“In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity we know our friends.” ~ John Churton Collins If you are an underclassman (in your first few years) majoring, involuntarily, in Life after the Death of your Child, you may find yourself bewildered at the flight of your friends, at the loss of […]
What I learned from a soldier… About strength It’s okay to cry… About caring Take your vitamins… Stay away from dark alleys… Watch your back… I love you… About illness I’m so sorry you’re sick… I’m very concerned… Have you been eating right? Taking your vitamins?
tight·rope (tītʹrōp´) noun 1. A tightly stretched rope, usually of wire, on which acrobats perform high above the ground. 2. An extremely precarious course or situation. “I am always at the beginning,” said The Buddha, on being asked what life was like. Hello 2015. Here we are: at the beginning again. Accidental […]
He sees me June 27, 2014. He loves a freshly cut lawn. He does a down-dog-stretch before squeezing through the rectangular flap of a door. Outside. Sniffing a path, he finds a patch of sun and flops onto his side. Lying still for a minute, he soaks up the warmth […]
Does Issa speak of longing? His tears? Or continuing, despite the tears? I first read these lines a handful of years ago. When I was too attached. Unwilling to go on without— My beautiful boy. I was unable to save him. The smartest doctors in the world were unable to save him. And then, I couldn’t bring him back. […]