I remember the moment I lost my mom. She was sitting in front of me, but she was gone.
I had just told her that we decided to name our son after her dad, my grandfather. She stared at me blankly – looking more through me than at me – and said, puzzled, “My dad?!” I could see the wheels turning in her head, trying to think of who her dad was.
I’m only a few miles out from the cemetery and it begins to rain. The day is gloomy, so this isn’t quite a surprise, but I question myself and why I hadn’t thought to check the weather before I left the house.
I glance over to the floor of the passenger side of the car and notice an umbrella slightly peeking out from underneath the seat. I feel relief. I kno...
My father died 12 years ago. TWELVE! Yikes. Recently, his best friend since childhood passed away. I wanted to attend the viewing and the funeral, but I was sick during that time. I thought about what it would have been like if I did go.
Would they even recognize me? I haven’t seen them in years. I felt sad for the family, but I didn’t f...
When my dad passed away, there were many parts of my life that were completely altered, and many experiences in my future that I knew would never be perfect without him: my birthdays, Christmas, Sundays watching the Eagles.
One of the biggest things that loomed over my head was my engagement and wedding to Marc.
I have a friend, Joan, who is extremely talented at anything involving art. She can draw, she can paint, she can sculpt. She can even do nail art as I learned my junior year of high school when she painted my nails before a school dance.
For someone so talented, her art isn’t the basis of her career. Instead, she kicks ass in the marketing department for an...