Tag Archives: grief

Holding on to What I Haven’t Got

Holding on to What I Haven’t Got

Do you ever randomly think of someone you haven’t seen in ages? This happens to me a lot. All day long, various things will remind me of my friends or family members. It’s like having a memory player on shuffle in my mind all the time. Sometimes it’s people I see every day. Sometimes it’s people I haven’t seen in years.  Read the rest of this entry »


Posted by on September 27, 2016 in Depression, Life in General


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Between grief and nothing, I’ll take grief

“Fly free and happy, beyond birthdays and across forever, and we’ll meet now and then when we wish, in the midst of the one celebration that never can end.”

— “There’s No Such Place As Far Away”, Richard Bach

Today should have been my friend Jenny’s 38th birthday. It should have been, but it wasn’t. Instead it was the day I realized she will be 37 forever because we lost her last week. I say “lost” because people understand what that means, but it’s not the right word. She’s not lost, I know where she is. There are a lot of different ways to say it, but none of them are enough.

For over a week I have been writing, reading, re-writing, and re-reading this post. Those of you who didn’t know Jenny might feel sympathy for my pain, but you might not really feel the depth of it. I can’t say that nothing was left unsaid between us. There could never have been enough time to say it all.

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Posted by on January 11, 2014 in Life in General


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Today you would have been 27; but you will never be older than 22. As the years have gone by, the memories have faded little by little.

Someday I may forget that you were the first of Ian’s little sisters to call me your sister. I’d never had a sister before; I was surprised and delighted to be welcomed so quickly into your heart. Someday I may forget how happy you were when we asked you to play the flute at our wedding. I may forget how you always insisted my son would be born with blue eyes but with a brown spot in one eye, just like yours, and how disappointed you were that his eyes were just plain blue. I may forget how persistently you told me that Stephen had to be born on your birthday (and how you teased that you would never forgive me for waiting until the 29th to go into labor).

I may not always remember the sad things either. Perhaps someday I will forget how much my heart ached when I saw how you suffered in your relationships, and how you gave your heart to men who did not deserve you. Perhaps someday I will forget how disappointed I was every time I saw you light a cigarette. But I will always remember the intense pain, the shock, and the despair I felt when we received the phone call we could never have expected: that you had been in a car accident and had not survived.

I may forget the details but I will never forget you, my first little sister. I love you, and even if I don’t think of you every day, I always feel the absence of you in our lives.


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Posted by on June 28, 2011 in Family Life


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