Richard Wagamese’s book, Embers, is one of the few books I keep returning to for its accessible wisdom. My gift to you this holiday season, is a sampling of his wisdom. I’ve chosen two of his writings from each of the seven sections in his book: Stillness, Harmony, Trust, Reverence, Persistence, Gratitude, and Joy. May we all carrya sprinkling of these with us wherever we go…
Read MoreWay too many moms are grieving the death of their child this year. For the holidays, I decided I’d like to give every grieving mom the gift of compassionate friends and family. I truly believe that most people want to help, but just don’t know how. So I asked grieving moms what they wanted other people to know about them over the holidays. What did they need to feel supported? And I’m sharing their responses, so you can be better prepared to gift them with your understanding this year…
Read MoreMerry Merry Christmas
My only son just died
While everyone else is festive
I stay home and cry
The whole world comes together
To love those hurt and scared
Through illness, floods, and hurricanes
It’s good to know they care
But no one wants to notice
Our greatest shame of all…
Read MoreI’m heading into my fifth holiday season without my son, Tristan. He died just over four years ago, from addiction and a toxic drug supply. I’d like to say it still hurts, but that’s not quite right. It still crushes me. And I sweep up the pieces and hold them together as best I can as I walk through the season. I try to find enjoyment and connection where I can, and I do. I enjoy my family at Christmas, tremendously, and yet it still feels so damned hard. But it’s easier than it was the first few years. And that ease is, in large part, because I’ve learned to honour and accept my grief, rather than deny or repress it…
Read MoreMy son died just over four years ago. He was twenty-one years old. And while my grief is with me for life, it has evolved over the last four years, and I expect it will continue to.
Those first weeks and month’s after Tristan’s death were what I refer to as my “early grief”. It was heartwrenchingly painful to breathe during that time, but what made things even worse was that I was continually surprised by the ways in which grief raised its ugly head and took a bite out of me. It was relentless in its ability to find new ways to knock me down…
Read MoreGrieving the death of your child is always horrific, but I think there’s an added layer of difficulty when you’ve lost a child to addiction, drug use, or suicide. Stigma can make it hard to share our experiences, but not sharing them magnifies our pain and makes us feel alone. I’ve always been open about my son’s struggle with addiction…
Read MoreThe sheep were a soft silvery blue: cerulean awash in a spray of small silver splatters. They were the exact same colour as the shepherds and the dog and cow and donkey. The same colour as the wise men and their camels and, of course, Joseph and Mary and little baby Jesus. Even the manger was that amazing mix of blue and silver, the same shade of blue as my mother’s eyes…
Read MoreSesimbra, Portugal, is a place with history. She’s known grief and loss. Her cracked cobblestones are soaked with centuries of tears. History is seeped into her narrow, steep streets, but she doesn’t mourn for those lost. She knows that death is part of life. Nothing surprises her. Nothing defeats her. She simply bears witness and remains…
Read MoreYou’re the inescapable storm
Of heart-breaking firsts
And the relentless loss
Of a thousand sweet souls
As more mothers mourn
And the world rages on…
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