I celebrate 20 publications. I celebrate and embrace being atypical. I honor and remember that grief does not define me, but is a part of me.
Tag: Writing
The Chain That was Broken
Sometimes we can't replace the chain that was broken.
Meet Me at Sunset, a Corrie Poem
That is why I must stay until, as my daughter says, "Meet me at sunset just as the last colors cross the sky. You won't know the day or time, Mommy, but I will meet you at sunset as the last colors cross the sky."
Into this Good Earth, Part 2: Ways We Remember Corrie and Each Other
I knocked the soil loose. There is something I have to find, but I haven't located it, yet.
When the Daffodils Blossom … and a Corrie Poem
Wake me in the morning to see the daffodils. See how they bloom during a time when lovers bring flowers, chocolates, and declare a summer day in Paris on "vacay" kind of love to one another.
Snow for Angel’s Feet (a Corrie Poem)
Perhaps the snow falls for angel's feet. Perhaps that's why we do not meet.
7 Minutes in Heaven (a Corrie Poem)
Six I've since learned in the eighteen months since I lost my little girl, who loved to wear her red winter coat made for church in a March rain, that December reminds me of the time when her father ...
What is Gold to Us
I reached a point in December 2020/ January 2021 when I lost count of the weeks, since Corrie's death. This is something you only understand if you've lost someone you love so much. "Six" became my signature poem for the collection for many different reasons. It was six weeks, since she died, and it was an age she never got to see.
Not Your Great Aunt Mildred’s Teacher
Corrie was never afraid to ask. She'd start with the charm offensive. When students enter our classroom, they know anything might happen. It’s not in the “We’re going to Disney World” way. Nor is it in the “Mermaid unicorns do exist way.” Our classroom is not your Great Aunt Mildred’s classroom where students sit in… Continue reading Not Your Great Aunt Mildred’s Teacher
Why I Know my Daughter Lives
I talk to Corrie everyday. Whether through a dream, memory, or out loud; I speak with my daughter. A relationship with a child isn’t like other relationships that may stop cold turkey. I still have two children. It’s just one moved out before the other. She grew her wings. She graduated to heaven, and we… Continue reading Why I Know my Daughter Lives
Corrie's Season 