Hope

One year ago, hope was terrifying.  Six months ago, hope was impossible.  And now…things feel different. Most of the year following my daughter’s death is a vague blur.  I remember some moments like crystal, as clearly as if they happened yesterday.  Others are seemingly gone forever, without a shred of recollection.  Many are vague and…

Grief. Art. Therapy.

When we found out my daughter had a brain tumor, I started coloring.  Like a maniac.  Soon the playroom walls were covered with different shapes that I filled with ink and colored pencil.  There were times I felt that coloring was the only way I could keep breathing.  I was drawn to it.  I remember…

When I Get a Minute

It has been almost sixteen months since my daughter died.  She has been gone longer than she was here.  The pain of losing her has only gotten stronger.  I have gotten better at getting through the days.  I have gotten better at listening to myself.  I have gotten better at understanding my grief.  But the…