Father and daughter discuss the delights of The Sizzler. She wanted to ride SO badly, but will have to wait until next year.
He put the van in reverse, and I watched my little family begin to back out of the driveway. My girls waved vigorously from their car seats, giddy with joy that daddy was taking them to the carnival. I stepped out onto the porch, and motioned for my husband to stop. He rolled down the window.
“I’m coming. Just give me a minute.”
That moment, that split decision, was probably one of the best I’ve ever made. Fresh from hearing our sweet baby had died in utero, my heart was swollen and achy, much like my abdomen where our child still rests. I didn’t want to go. To face …
When it comes to preparing us for the moment of tragedy’s impact, the movies really do us a disservice. Foreshadowing, strategic camera angles and carefully orchestrated suspenseful music lead you to a logical conclusion. Something bad is about to happen.
But it doesn’t happen that way in real life. In real life, the room is quiet, the view is singular, the fluorescent lights blare overhead, and the moment of impact comes softly through an ultrasound tech’s whispered, “I’m sorry.” There was no foreshadowing in the plot, no indication that a sudden and life-altering blow would be delivered. Our baby was gone. Slipped away some time ago. No heartbeat. No movement. The sorrow is silent.
I’m still wrapping my mind around what happened yesterday. A happy, belly-bulging mother-to-be entered the OB’s office for a routine exam, and a …
I’ll always picture my brother in this jacket.
“I think we’re getting together on Sunday to visit the grave.” I had to pause for a moment after hearing my mom’s voice through the phone. Of course. The grave. The anniversary. How could I have forgotten? Well, I didn’t forget. I just wasn’t thinking about it at the time. All the time. Like I used to. Has it really taken me 13 years to reach this point? More than a decade for most of my thoughts during the months of September through October to not send me into a downward spiral? Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?
Perhaps, it’s been rattling around in my mind, creeping around corners and ducking under tables when the lights are turned on. Whispering to me, instead of shouting. …
Yesterday would have been Eric’s 42nd birthday. This time of year typically puts me into a spin cycle, hurtling me towards the anniversary of his death on October 29, then to the holidays where his presence is noticeably absent, then finally spits me out sometime in January, when the frigid weather numbs my raw emotions. My brother Luke’s birthday was August 31, and mine is coming up on Sunday. We always celebrated our birthdays together, my two brothers and I. With all three birthdays little more than a week apart, it was not only convenient for my family, but was a special bond we all shared.
This year, we celebrated Luke’s birthday separately, and it felt nice. I couldn’t help but feel, though, the void in between. With my birthday coming up on Sunday, we’ve lost the …
After the NCAA issued its ruling against Penn State today, part of me celebrated that the egregious cover-up was being treated seriously, and part of me mourned the justice that was not done after my brother’s death, after the deaths of four other victims, after thirty years of abuse was shoved under the rug.
That’s good. That’s a step in the right direction. But I can’t help getting mad all over again. By the time Robert Larson’s (the priest who abused my brother) legacy of sexual …
The beauty of the conference center’s garden was a gentle reminder that life is good. Life is to be enjoyed.
When someone tells me they enjoy reading my blog, I’m thrilled. But, when Malena Lott (founder and executive editor of Buzz Books), told me she enjoyed reading my blog, I was over the moon. Not only because I need constant validation like an insecure puppy, but because she likes my writing despite (or because of) the dark subject matter. And how did I respond to this compliment from an experienced, talented author? Did I take the advice of my former boss and swallow my self deprecation? Sort of.
“Thank you. I really have no idea what I’m doing.” Why did I say this? Was it true? Well, yes and no. Up until …