No Timetable for Moving Forward

After my dad’s wife died, he didn’t change much of anything. Her things stayed where they’d been. The house remained much as she’d left it. For him, there wasn’t any sudden cleaning out of closets, redecorating rooms, or getting rid of reminders of the life they’d shared. Other people respond completely differently. I’ve known widows who’ve begun cleaning out their husband’s belongings...

The People Who Need You Don't Always See Your Pain

Grief doesn’t always look like tears. Sometimes it looks remarkably capable. On the thirty-sixth anniversary of my daughter Alisha’s accident, I was still working and caring for everyone around me, but internally, I was tired. One thoughtful gesture reminded me how powerful it is when someone sees beneath all our doing.

Finding My Way Back to Peace

My nine-year-old daughter, Alisha, is buried at Dry Creek Cemetery in Boise, Idaho, 812 miles from my home in Frederick, Colorado. After Alisha died, we visited several cemeteries in Boise, trying to choose her final resting place. Nothing about that task felt natural. Parents are not supposed to choose cemeteries for their children. Then we drove through the entrance of Dry Creek Cemetery and saw a plaque bearing these words:

Restoration May Tary But It's Never Late

Age twelve and the oldest of four, I gathered my siblings into a huddle to shield them. Our parents were pointing shotguns at each other in our living room. I thank God they didn’t pull the triggers Half a century later, both parents, long divorced, show end-of-life symptoms. Tears fall or laughter bursts without warning; the emotions are tumultuous.

Perhaps It's Just a Butterfly

I see yellow-and-black butterflies often. Sometimes one floats past while I’m outside. Other times, one appears when my thoughts have wandered to my son Jason. I always stop and watch it. Sometimes, the butterfly seems to follow me from the front to the backyard.

When Home Doesn't Feel Like Home

“When I die, I want to be buried in Boise,” Alisha told me. We live in Colorado. In a way only God works, we were in Boise when Alisha died three weeks later. Still out of state after Alisha's accident and funeral, a well-meaning neighbor attempted to clean out Alisha’s bedroom before we came home.