“Can you play, Raise a Hallelujah?” I sat up a from the hard pullout couch that I was attempting to make a bed out of, and I looked over at him. I didn’t know if I heard him correctly. I didn’t know if I heard him at all. He laid perfectly still in his bed … More Anger 6: Finishing the Race
“Here comes the sun,” the long-haired tattoo artist said right before the roar of the machine cut on. I cringed at how impersonal it all was, at how thoughtlessly he threw out words that had come to mean so much to me. I wanted to hit him. If it wasn’t for the sting of my … More Anger 5: I’ll Follow The Sun
My tulips sprouted this week. This shouldn’t be that significant… I mean, it’s March, most tulips sprout in March. But my heart sank a little when I pulled into my driveway, and I saw the little green stocks peeking out of the ground. Andrew’s dad and sister planted these tulip bulbs for us last fall. … More Anger 4: Tulips and Resolution
Just a moment. We are all just one moment—good or bad—away from our whole life shifting course—good or bad. I think about this a lot when people look at me with those sad eyes. I think about how close I was to being shattered at a time when I didn’t even know it. Just a … More Anger 3: The Moments in Our Story
Job… in case you were wondering. In case last week when I said, “No one ever sends you to Isaiah in the midst of tragedy,” you asked, “Well, then where do they send you?” In my experience, the answer is Job. I think this is an appropriate response, really. I don’t think Job is a … More Anger 2: Not That Job-y
I had just finished the book of Isaiah on the day that my husband died. This fact alone does not seem significant. I didn’t plan it. I wasn’t on any type of reading schedule. I was just reading the Old Testament in order at whatever hour of the day I had the energy to do … More Anger 1: Rage…Shattered…Saved…
“It’s almost time for you to leave the nest,” he nearly shouts at me over the sound of the music. I imagine that every other father and daughter dancing around us are having their own version of this same cheesy conversation. The coral-colored skirt of my dress ripples as I pull away just enough … More Eagle
Today, I placed a single white rose on Kurt Vonnegut’s grave. Well… kind of. Today I went on a wild goose chase for Kurt Vonnegut’s grave, ultimately learned that his final resting place is unknown to anyone, and instead left a rose on his father’s grave, but I mean, it was the same name, so … More Contradictions
It’s crowded, overwhelming. People are everywhere. Some look at me, some don’t. I look at both no one and everyone at the same time. This isn’t my thing. Crowds, heels, dresses, sobriety. Where’s the bar? How far can it be? How long does it take to get a drink? Just one drink? Or I guess … More Home
“What happened to seven-year-old me when I turned eight?” Yeah, try fielding that one from your child. I’m telling you, my parents were saints for the weird conversations they had to deal with. “What do you mean?” my mom asked, looking toward my dad. He just shrugged. “Where did she go?” I asked. “She’s right … More 2021 Me
