Yes, this is the way to do it. This is the way we do it. Connect with loved ones, celebrate, and honor those that have left us.
I was MIA. Emotionally. Mentally.
It was May 1994. I was numb walking into the house to pack my bags for the hospital…
It’s National Poetry Month. As much as I admire some poems and don’t get others (at all) some speak quite loudly to my sweet self. This one spoke softly, sweetly, gently.
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
I feel both. Today is beautiful. I am reminiscing about the day I married my husband, Dave, 16 years ago on a beautiful sunny 72 degree day, apple blossoms blooming, not typical of March 26th in Seattle. Today is bittersweet. I share this day with my neighbor and friend, Heather, as we honor and celebrate the too short life of her husband and soulmate Shane Sullivan. Similar as 16 years ago, a warm beautiful sunny day, apple blossoms blooming, not …Continue reading»