Family
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There He Stands
He stands in silence, listening, without a word. Does anyone notice? Will anyone care? Do they even remember that he’s there?
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There Never is Just One
Family isn't always just the people who you live in a house with. A grieving widow may have lost her husband, but that man was a son before he married. He was "best friends" with some of the kids he grew up with; and oftentimes, he is a brother to siblings, a nephew to aunts and uncles, and cousin to many. The wife must be comforted, but it shouldn't be at the exclusion of acknowledging others who grieve with her.
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How to Help a Grieving Friend
I sat quietly back, sipping on the lemonade the pastor had brought to the house, along with sacks full of Chick-Fil-A, and watched as the parade of people stopped by my sister’s house. We were only 36 hours into this shock wave, and there was already a long list of things to do; decisions that had to be made sooner rather than later. Hours earlier, we sat with the Director of the memorial gardens where my young nephew would be laid to rest, picking out all the various elements one had to do before the burial. This was not our first experience. We’d unfortunately entered the world of family loss…
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Why I Get Nostalgic in the Fall – Part Two
I never really missed not having other extended family around during the holidays. And after experiencing the chaos, personality tensions, overcrowding, and the mess that was left behind when we did, I really didn’t understand the fascination of it all.
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Why I Get Nostalgic in the Fall – Part One
Growing up, there was an unwritten rule that every holiday had its own season, filled with its own family, church and community traditions. In the Fall, that meant starting by picking out pumpkins and turning them into jack-o-lanterns in October, highlighted by attending at least one Halloween party. Growing up on military bases, there was aways an event happening this time of year at the Community Center that we would attend. Back then, no one really thought about sanitary things like we do today. So doing things like bobbing for apples was actually a thing, along with other fun games that were big draws. They typically had age-appropriate activities in…
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Childhood Reflections on Memorial Day
Schilling Manor was a unique place. It wasn’t a typical military base. We were a small knit community of moms and kids who had at least one thing in common. Our dads were thousands of miles away fighting a war in a place the majority of us couldn’t find on a map. And when someone’s dad didn’t come home, we all knew. It impacted us all. Would we be next…to watch that car, filled with those men, driving slowing down our street?
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The Promise of America the Beautiful
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Don’t Blink
Caught in lashes, that act as temporary gates. Unwilling to be more. Unable to resist. The blink.
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Grieving Through the Holidays
It’s here. That time of the year when your emotions might be shooting off in multiple directions at the same time. You’re up and you’re down; smiling for the photographs one moment, while crying behind closed doors another moment. Every year you tell yourself you’ll do better. That it’ll get better. That’s what everyone told you when you said goodbye to your loved one. But the years have gone by and the moments still come, some expectedly; that birthday, anniversary, different holiday seasons. Other times it comes out of nowhere. Was it a scent? The smell of a candle that used to burn in their house. A sound? That silly…
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Happy Heavenly Birthday
I know it might sound a little crazy, but whenever I buy and cut open a watermelon, it makes me think of my dad. My family loved watermelon. Fresh. Ripe. Juicy. The smell alone brings back memories of our summertime growing up. From being out of school, to being on vacation; as a child, summer meant freedom, fun, picnics, and backyard cookouts. We didn’t just hang out outside. We loved being outdoors; especially living on an Army base. Playing with friends, riding bikes around the block; even walking to the community swimming pool or the movie theater, with barely a dollar in our pockets, which bought plenty back then. I…
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A Picture Paints a Million Memories
A friend recently posted on her Instagram that she thinks her kids and husband are growing tired of her taking so many pictures of them. Then said “but one day they’ll thank me.” I couldn’t agree more. Somewhere along the way between my post-high school days and young adult years, I became the unofficial keeper of the family history, including pictures. I wasn’t as obnoxious as one of my sisters who “ready or not,” would shove a still or video camera in your face and take your photo or start filming, whether you wanted it or not, I believed in the “grab your lip gloss, straighten your shirt, pull your…
