"And I was going to ask, 'how's Chuckles', but no.." My daughter's voice trails off. "It's ok, it's totally ok to ask honey," I respond, not wanting her to feel bad. At 29 my oldest lives on the other side of the country, but she somehow almost feels my inner most thoughts on some subjects. Grief over having to put our dog down, an act I still ponder with disbelief, is almost a daily guest. "I go outside, or sometimes just stop what I'm doing. And I talk to him. And I always cry on queue," I say, remembering doing just that the day before. "Awww," she replies, with a tone that locks in understanding without the use of many words. If I threw a deck of cards on the floor, and observed the unorganized display that these days would be my emotions, I'd save the Queen of Hearts for Grief. "Let's Take The Long Way Home-a memoir of friendship" is the trophy book of grief expressed with a quiet dignity I ca...
My family on a hike near Mt. Vernon, Iowa. Circa 2015 Hi Winter, I see you. Heck, how can I not. I've done my best, but it's time to admit something really, really scary. You're bigger than me, you're meaner than me, though on a day like today when the added gob-smacking of sleep deprivation (Auntie Menny- as in Menapause missed the memo that she could skip her visit this week) and well, time to face facts. I just cannot deal. You see I used to be able to tough it out. The photo depicts me doing just that. On an impossibly cold day here I am behind 4 out of 5 of my family members, plus Chuckles our dog. Missing that day was our oldest son. It was the kind of cold that cuts to the bone, most days here in January, February do just that. I agreed to go for this "hike" with our family during Christmas break, my mom guilt hovering steady in the "make sure there are good memories" pressuring myself. Our oldest and only...