The very first thing I tell my new students on the first day of a workshop is that good writing is about telling the truth. We are a species that needs and wants to understand who we are. Sheep lice do not seem to share this longing, which is one reason why they write so little. Anne Lamott

You are and always will be the love of my life. One year ago, we were happily planning our life together. Little did we know in a split second our lives would change forever.

My mother. My anchor. She steadies me. Holds me in place.

My mother. My rock. She gives me a place to pause, to be still.

Brother
Not able to breathe
not wanting to die so soon
Your fear kissed me.

Have you ever heard the wonderful silence just before the dawn? Or the quiet and calm just as a storm ends? Or perhaps you know the silence when you haven’t the answer to a question you’ve been asked, or the hush of a country road at night, or the expectant pause of a room full of people when someone is just about to speak, or, most beautiful of all, the moment after the door closes and you’re alone in the whole house? Each one is different, you know, and all very beautiful if you listen carefully. The Phantom Tollbooth

Child, you cannot escape your grief. You can try to drown it in distractions, numb it with your vices or even pretend it isn’t there at all. Sooner or later, it will spring back out of its hiding place and demand you stand and face it. Beau Taplin, Poet & Author