A couple days ago, as a friend and I pulled into the parking lot of a local church that was serving as the temporary location of a Children’s Hospital Blood Mobile, it was as though a wrecking ball came from nowhere and crashed into my gut.   We had signed up several weeks prior

Vanguard University, where Drake works, has an annual staff picnic at a local park.  They have a bounce house for the kids, a catered meal, and other festivities.  Last year the picnic was on May 17th.  Judson jumped in the bounce house, ran across the lawn, tossed pine cones, chased ducks, climbed picnic tables, devoured

I am convinced there is a huge difference between surviving and thriving.  Most of the moments in my life are now spent simply trying to manage each instant in a manner that I can make it to the next. Drake and I are probably less functional than people might imagine; others may observe us out

Time has become a very strange concept for me. On the one hand, the passing of time brings me closer to Jud; with each ticking second, our reunion inches toward me.  On the other hand, the passing of time equates to greater distance from my son; with each ticking second, my memories of Jud become

I must confess that even prior to Jud’s death I have never been a big fan of Mothers’ Day.  (I know, sacrilege! ) Yesterday, my church, that I already adore, went up several notches in my book (if that is even possible).  On a day when most churches offer all sorts of motherly fanfare and

Dear Judson, Today is Mothers’ Day. As I lay here by your graveside, tracing the lines of your face on a portrait cast in stone, I hear in my memory the sweetness of your voice and the music of your laughter.  I long to be with you. I recall the second to last time I

On Mother’s Day, 4 years ago, Drake and I shocked our families by announcing that I was pregnant.  We had known for over 2 weeks that I was expecting our first child, but had kept the news quiet in anticipation of the forthcoming holiday set aside to celebrate motherhood. We wrapped two wooden frames that

We tend to think of bereavement as being a state of sorrow over the death of a loved one.  But this term is derived from an archaic word indicative of someone being ruthlessly deprived of something by having it forcibly ripped away. When something is ripped, it is split apart in a harsh, rough manner.