Telling my young kids their father had died was probably the worst thing I have ever had to do.
In the depth of my grief, I found poignant gratitude for the opportunity to have experienced such deep love for a furry friend.
We discuss, we talk, we make a plan to apologize for mistakes, to ask for forgiveness. It’s all he can do.
Last week a friend of mine sent me a picture of her 16-year-old son’s grave. She finds comfort in visiting and what struck me was the dirt.
By Kathy Glow. I know about too late, and it guts you.
By Jessica Watson. Since losing our daughter, I don't have it in me to manage the craziness of big parties and the hustle and bustle of all the holiday happenings that made up our life before.
Your baby, that baby that you see right there with the beating heart and the perfect tiny hands and feet, is going to die and no amount of wishing me dead or mute or skipping your appointment or begging for a do-over is going to change that. Off you go now, the dog needs to be let out. There are dishes in the sink. You can’t leave the kids with your friend forever.