Most of Judson’s belongings now sit in a storage bin in our garage.  It’d been a couple years since I opened the plastic tub to engage its contents.  I use the word engage because the items contained therein cannot simply be browsed; they provoke, stir, and kick up memories, which can be both beautiful and

On Christmas Eve we arrived with family at Judson’s gravesite armed with lawn chairs, blankets, decorations, and balloons—the usual fare to celebrate our boy’s birthday. But that’s what got to me most this year…it was the usual fare.  It was the same.  No new memories of our son.  No little boy to marvel at or consider his growth over

Photo courtesy of The Orange County Register As I was sitting in my Starbucks office, typing away on my laptop, a sweet woman tapped me on the shoulder and, pointing at my necklace, asked, “Is that your son?” “Yes,” I smiled, leaving it at that. “Is that his age now or was that picture taken