Over the holiday season my heart is more tender and bruised as it mingles with the joy and merriment of the season. It’s necessary for me to stop and pause to remember my daughter. I
As we inch into the second year of my daughter’s passing, I’m finding myself at a standstill. The reality of what has happened to us hits me on a weekly basis. A photo I haven’t
I cannot pray. I don’t know how. It’s not that I don’t want to, but words fail me. They come out muffled and fake. They are stale and regurgitated from the days of my youth.
Observing the death anniversary of one of the loves of your life is difficult to navigate, make sense of and find your rhythm in. I know for me, it’s important to have many rituals in place. Orchestrated mourning, I
March 2015. My daughter Florence Marigold, is three years old. We were told she wouldn’t make it past her early childhood years. Although we are thrilled she is with us, we also know there is
Nothing could have prepared me for the beauty of your spirit as you came in flesh and blood and water. Nothing. The love I have for you is vast. It is overwhelming. On the day