she died not so long ago
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my body knows
it quivers into december,
as warm wreaths brighten up lampposts
set against skies rich with winter coming
From the archives: A Father's Day visit
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I sit down at Zoey’s grave, with M. sitting at Gus’s, and we clean. I wipe the dirt off Zoey’s gravestone. I scrub the grit out of the engraved letters of her name. It is Father’s Day, and this is how I talk to my children: in solvent and cotton swabs.
Read MoreMother's Day
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no one wants to say anything about the missing babies
like we’re not thinking of them every day, especially this day
all mothers need to be acknowledged and celebrated
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Getting through holidays: a kitchen table post
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This week’s post is a Glow In The Woods kitchen table. Today, we’re sitting together to talk about holidays, how they feel, how we survive them, what we want others to know about them. Pull up a chair. We’ll pour you something to warm your insides and welcome you into the huddle, where all your thoughts - the good, the bad and the ugly - are welcome.
Read MoreThe worst first birthday
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I am in disbelief.
Do we really have to do this, every year, for the rest of our lives? And then do it all over again, with each holiday that comes up, with each milestone she was robbed of, with each breath she didn't get to take? And again and again, every day, for all of eternity...?
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