The first few months of navigating life as a widowed parent are extremely difficult. Every moment of those days is permanently imbedded in my mind. If…
My daughter died at the age of four months. My life was completely shattered. The pain I felt in my heart and my body was indescribable.
Some people become widows in the blink of an eye, a tragic accident or sudden death. Some become widows after what I can only imagine a…
I am realizing what Father’s Day is really all about. It is not about celebrating me, but rather a time to celebrate what an honor and privilege it is to be a dad and a son.
By all accounts, legal and biological, I have had three fathers, a bounty that has left me reflecting on what it means to be a father, and maybe more so, what it means to be someone’s daughter.
On the outside, it looked like I had everything going for me. But on the inside, I lived in a swirling storm of hurt.
I was always taken with being a mother, from the moment I felt my sweet daughter enter the world. I’d never felt such all-consuming love for another being.
My mom was extraordinary. She had a list of living donors willing to part with their organ just so she could live. In 1995 all that altruism and charity was frowned upon. Doctors would never think of taking something from someone that wasn’t a genetic link.
I have had to let go of my vision of what a family should look like and how parents should behave toward their children.