Missy Moo Every year for 5 years I’ve written you a letter for your birthday or around the time you passed. It appears not doing it would be as much as a travesty as not remembering you at all. To be honest – I meant to post this on your birthday. I wrote it and … Continue reading Say Her Name
genetics
The greater plan
While life wasn't horrible for me growing up, it wasn't the one I read about in books or saw in the movies. My dad left my family when I was just 3 years old. He further put salt on the wound by telling us to vacate our brand new home. Finally, he decided another woman … Continue reading The greater plan
10 years
To my sweet girl.... I knew you were my girl at the 20 week ultrasound. December 4, 2006 to be exact. On that cold, dark evening Daddy and I went to the appointment after work. I remember the tech so clearly telling us it was you...our sweet pea. Little did I know who you would truly … Continue reading 10 years
YOU are not the victim
So, let me understand, you didn't lose a child but yet you are upset and make it about you? how does that work?
Processing…
A friend's child may be getting a fatal diagnosis today. I have been through death but I'm still processing this one. And finding perspective and hoping you do too.
How are you?
I wish I could tell you why this question weighs heavily on my mind - How are you? It just does. I wonder if people truly think about what they are asking...I know I do. And I'm not sure I have the right answer.
You didn’t forget
You stepped up...again. You didn't forget and with you I wouldn't be surviving.
Signs
Signs. Signs to know she is here, listening, loving and wrapping her arms around me.
Waves of Grief
The waves of grief hit. And hit hard. But I'm thankful.
It is not your door.
I've had this in draft for almost 2 months wondering if I should post. I read a quote that resonated with me..."When you come out of a storm you won't be the same person that walked in...that's what a storm is about." So here I am relating to the door on a house. Some people like the color of my door and some don't. But it was my storm, my door - my house.
Loving Lydia 