This advent season, I wanted to write, but I didn’t know where to start. The last seven months have been extraordinarily hard, as I’ve waded through grief and trauma. The emotions and fears that simmered
May 1st 2017. I started the day with good energy and decided to get out of the house with my son. It was another rainy, Vancouver day. I felt a tiny bit apprehensive and felt like
Mother’s Day to me means deep, agonizing pain. It doesn’t mean flowers and hollandaise brunches. Not yet, anyway. I’m just not sure how Mother’s Day will evolve over the years, because it’s tightly bound to loss.
Music has carried me through the most intense and agonizing moments of my life. Sometimes all I wanted was silence in the early days of grief, but as time passed, I leaned into the melodies
One of the most frequent questions I get asked is: what do I give my friend that just lost her baby or older child? I want to let her know I’m thinking about her and
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
I never wanted to be strong. But from the age of 16, when my spine was fused together with titanium, and my typical teenage problems disappeared into the bleeping of ICU monitors, I was told
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
When I think back on our lives with Florence, often in and out of hospital and appointments, I remember being fed. I remember food. Another cup of coffee, an oat bar in a paper bag
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.
My cousin, The Samurai Carpenter, is a talented woodworker and carpenter. We asked him to make an urn for our Florence’s precious ashes. I really wanted marigolds and a butterfly on the urn somehow, but
