forsythia
Forsythia are beautiful. Their yellow blooms are the brightest and boldest heralds of early spring. My love of forsythia traces back to early childhood. Our yard showcased a semi-tamed towering patch, and when they bloomed, they dazzled me. Last week, my first glimpse...
dry bones
One decade. One decade since our vibrant, silly, uniquely caring boy left us all for his eternal home. As I reflect on the past ten years, I am conscious of having survived an incalculably staggering loss. In my posts on this site, I’ve attempted to define – to...
joy shines through
And so it is Christmas Eve. Our seventh one separated from the extraordinary joy of our precious boy’s existence. Christmas continues to be a bleak season for me, despite the passage of so many years. Other significant calendar events last for just a day: Easter,...
seven
The seven-year anniversary of our son’s death...it feels significant. Seven, as a number, means something, doesn’t it? I grew up hearing seven described as the “perfect” number. We can rattle off many associations with seven: seven heavens, seven wonders of the world,...
miracle revisited
Six years ago today, I watched a miracle unfold before my eyes. Because my son ultimately succumbed to his illness, it’s been easy for me to thrust this miracle far into the recesses of my mind for much of the time. But with each passing year, I become more and more...
repurposed
The other night, I drove to the cemetery, intending just to stay in my car and look at Tyler’s bench as I sometimes do. But the March night was already pitch black, and I couldn’t even make out the outline of his memorial. So I walked over and sat down, grateful that...
why?
Lately I have been plagued by the question, “Why?” Not the why you would think. Not the, why-did-my-son-get-cancer-and-suffer-and-die why. No, not that why. To that why, my response has always been, “why not?” Seriously. Why not? Why should Tyler have been spared a...
tell your heart to beat again
March 29, 2016. Just another date on the calendar. Clocks shift from 11:59 pm to 12:00 am. And it’s here. Another day. Except this particular date forever marks my child’s death. Likewise, the years on my calendar march on. 2012 has somehow become 2016. You would...
“you have memories”
In 2015, Facebook added a feature where former posts you’ve shared from years earlier pop up in your notifications. This past New Year’s Eve, Facebook announced, “Dianne, You have memories to look back on today…” My post was from 5 years earlier, December 31, 2010: A...