You whisper “goodbye” so softly you almost can’t hear the words yourself, immediately followed by “I love you”.  You will walk out of this room and this place with one less person. Immediately minus one out in the world, but never in your heart. Absent of a special life and soul, but not absent of the love. That kind of distinct love remains, always. Even…

She didn’t look sick. She didn’t look like she was dying. She didn’t look like she was slipping to eternity and far away from us. She didn’t look like anything but my mother.  She didn’t look like those things because she couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t accept it and my heart couldn’t fathom it. Denial is the first sign of grief’s ugly entrance.  Sadly, the glasses…

“If I can’t have you, then I can’t be with them.” It was the simple way it came out of his mouth. The ease as it left his lips and entered the world, to be heard and felt. Words spoken so lightly, so effortlessly, so quick, that I knew he meant them. I knew they were the intentional and deliberate wishes of his heart, but…

I can’t stop. I’m in a groove. I’m getting things done.  I’m cleaning.  I’m purging.  I’m organizing.  I’m in constant motion.  I can’t stop. Stopping would mean acknowledging the grief. Acknowledging the date, a notable one. A number on the calendar signifying a special day, one that should include my mother. But it can’t and doesn’t because she’s gone. I know this reality, so I…

My entire life my dad has purchased, renovated, and flipped houses. He has consistently purchased rundown, unmaintained, broken, dirty, and dark houses. As kids we’d gasp in horror looking at the chosen pieces of real estate selected by my father. Never understanding his vision or his insane desire to transform these less than mediocre houses. Houses others would abandon and run from, he was drawn…