• Grieving,  Mary

    I Couldn’t Let Go of Her Hands

      “Je ne sais pas où va mon chemin mais je sais que je marche mieux quand ma main serre la tienne.” – Alfred de Musset (1810–57) I do not know where my path is going, but I know that I walk better when my hand holds yours.  

  • Anger,  Grateful,  Leah,  Mary,  Memories,  Rocco

    My Dog Peed on My Mother’s Obituary

      At a time when we were unaware, Rocco chose a plastic bin of mine on the floor to lift his leg over and urinate on. He is a well trained dog and this was unexpected–so unexpected, he kept his secret for what might have been an entire day or two. The bin was one of several in a plastic storage unit that contained every note, card, letter, photo, and sentimental piece of paper (or pipecleaner) I had saved since I was in the third grade. So Rocco chose to not only urinate inside the house, he selected the only spot that could desicrate my emotional well being. (Other than my blankies). At…

  • Family,  Flowers,  Grieving,  Mary

    December 8, 2016

    Gripping my cell phone, I struggled to find the right words to tell Dan how scared I was. Since I had arrived that evening after work, my mother had been unable to speak to me again. I stood at the end of the hallway in the wing of her temporary care unit at Riverview in East Peoria. She was there to receive physical therapy while she healed from a broken arm. An exit door to my right was framed by full length windows of the black winter night. To my left, there was the bright fluorescent lights of the hallway. I heard televisions or muffled talk in the nearest bedrooms. I tried…