As I was coming home from being out with Jessie all morning, it struck me… I was feeling semi-normal. It was the first time I can recall sensations of “normalcy” in over 10 months.  What made me feel this way?  Usually I am aware that I could break down at any given moment-constantly on the

Dear Judson, I miss you.  More and more, I can’t remember the fine details of life with you.  I’ve forgotten so much.  But my heart remembers and rejoices and weeps all at the same time, even if the details elude me.  In your life, and now your death, you’ve left your mark on me, Juddy!

I ran into an old colleague at lunch today, one whom I have not interacted with for a couple of years.  However, I knew she was aware of our loss.  As we briefly chatted, she had this sweet and knowing look on her face, but it appeared she was unsure as to whether or not

Today Jessie is the exact age Jud was on the day she was born: 19 months, 24 days old. This feels strangely significant to me. Since Judson died, much of my time spent with Jessie has felt like deja vu-as though just a moment ago I had been experiencing life’s milestones with my one little

Dear Judson, It’s my birthday.  I miss you terribly. I have been asked many times what I want for my birthday and in each instance I just want to answer “Jud.”  I crave you more than everything this world has to offer.  All the wealth, wisdom, health on this earth could be bestowed upon me

Used clothing and fastidious stitching have been creatively combined to become one of my most valued possessions.  At first glance it is a quilt that might appear to be like any other patchwork coverlet, but for the grieving parents who dressed their little boy in these clothes, hugged his body while adorned by these garments,

I was crying while on the phone with a friend this morning when Jessie suddenly ran over to me with a kleenex in hand and dabbed my face.  My heart melted. I have never before given Jessie a kleenex, nor was I aware she even knew what tissues were or where to find them in

One of my favorite hobbies, photographing the daily life of our family, has lost much of its luster in the wake of Jud’s death. Since losing my “sweet man”, pictures have become a glaring reminder of our loss, rather than a reflection of our joy. It is not that I have stopped taking pictures, for