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A Boston native, I recently moved to Tampa suburb in search of more sunshine, literally and figuratively. The perfect storm of a pandemic, a divorce, and a medical scare facilitated a half-life crisis I could not…
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It has been such a source of internal distress for me that my mom has never appeared in one of my dreams. I am going on 7 long years of managing to function…
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I am about to tuck and roll into my seventh Motherless Mother’s Day. The intense, cyclical crush of grief, longing, and loneliness is familiar and expected at this point, but, now, during the…
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My mother stood in front of her ornate china cabinet, crammed with crystal and glass and silver, and traced her tired, swollen fingers across a weathered bowl. “This is an antique,” she said,…
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Five years ago today, I lost the person I was closest to for the first 40 years of my life. My beloved mom died after a relentless fight with ovarian cancer–a cruel, horrific,…
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I recently inexplicably started the daunting task of sifting through old emails, trying to make a dent in the 20,000 or so that have been clogging my oldest inbox for years. During my…
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My mom died four years ago today. I approach this day the same way every year. Grief rolls in like a predictable, incoming tide, beginning on Halloween. I see my then three-and-a-half-year-old son…
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When you’ve endured as many motherless days as I have, you do everything you can to protect yourself from the heightened, stinging sadness associated with certain dates. Her birthday and death anniversary are…
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