Anniversaries can be hard. A twentieth anniversary after nearly two years of worldwide sorrow and loss is going to be hard. Some of us can not look away from the images and footage. Some of us can’t bear to see it again. Some of us fall somewhere in the middle of that. Please be kind
My first experience with death came when I was fifteen years old. In the space of less than seven days, my father’s mother died and a childhood friend died. Grandma’s passing wasn’t a big shock, but finding out about Dennis that Monday morning at school was like a punch to my gut. The shock of
It’s amazing how time flies by and suddenly you realize you haven’t posted to your blog in weeks. After my stepfather’s passing, there was pride and in between and since has been the never ending parade of tasks involved in helping my mother move on. She moved in with my brother and his family yesterday.
My stepfather died on Friday at a few minutes after 2pm, more than two hours after we pulled the life support. When I first met Robert Flory twenty-one years ago, I was not his biggest fan, I’ll admit. I thought he wasn’t good enough for my mother, I thought he was a gruff old man,
