As I left the Richmond airport, two weeks ago, my phone pinged announcing a voicemail that had been received while I was in the air. I was returning from a second attempt to avoid the feelings surrounding the first anniversary of my mother’s death, arriving home on that very first anniversary date. Because I was … Continue reading Message Received: The Erma Story
Today marks one year since losing my mom. It’s been both the longest and shortest year, during which I learned a hell of a lot more about grief than I ever wanted to. For instance, did you know there is no trophy for Best at Grieving?
As I was shitting my pants, I was praying that our dog missed all the trees in her sledding path (she did) and remained upright (she did).
It really wasn’t that hard, except for the tears that kept filling my eyes as I pushed the needle through the quilt's sturdy fabric to form the words, "Love, Judy."
January's tsunami has not mixed well with a quiet morning, a cup of coffee within arm's reach, and a few hours dedicated to mapping out my Monday morning epiphany.
In the land of travel planning, not every booking is a big one, but sometimes, the smallest booking of all is the one that offers the biggest reward. Sometimes, that means an early drive to the airport on a day that I'm not going anywhere at all.
I think the most important thing I learned was that having grace for oneself is a gift. Make sure you give yourself that gift, too, okay?
Current status? Buckled up with a bit more confidence than I had a week ago. Oh, and a giant box of tissues, just in case.
Nothing says, "I have my life together" like a holiday card that arrives weeks before the actual holidays, right? Well, it’s the thought that counts, I suppose.
Growth comes at the edge of discomfort. Does it suck? Sometimes.
