Adventuring through childhood... with love and dysfunction in tow
Dear Holly, On your 12th birthday I remember you in all your forever smallness. I remember the first time I held you with a knowledge it was to say goodbye. But I didn’t say goodbye. Instead, I tucked in my heart. Your forever home. And I miss you every day.
We’re not shy about awareness here and our hearts are often open to the reality of life, regardless as to what it may bring. I wanted to write about Holly, the quietest member of our family who was born to give us an appreciation of the rain and an ability to see sunshine through the storms. She sure did rock… View Post
Grief changes you. You can let it consume you or you can let it awash your world with positives. What do you choose? To remain in the shade covered in a sadness? To allow your heart to crumble when memories take you back? To listen to the silence and let it remind you that they are no longer there? It’s so… View Post
The hardest thing was that she never got to open her eyes. Being born at 24 weeks often means that your eyes are still fused closed. Holly’s eyes never opened.
