Thoughts on Living and Dying, On Writing and Story
This blog is dedicated to those who want to live bountifully and to die gracefully.
It is dedicated those who want to use story as an opportunity to learn about who they truly are.
To those who write about themselves or their loved ones or to those who desire to do so soon.
This is blog is dedicated to the breathing, the dying and to everyone in between.
I have the privilege of sharing on the Experience Camps blog as a guest writer. I got this question from a young camper and it
In August of 2023, I got to spend time at a camp for grieving children with Experience Camps on the edge of Catoctin State Park
Carrying his grief, a 7 year old boy who lost his mother wrote her a letter and put it on her grave. After some time,
The Loss Library is a grief support podcast that was inaugurated on April 20th, 2023. The Loss Library, a podcast dedicated to accompanying on your
“What I do think is important is to encourage individuals—both Black, white, and everyone in between—to utilize BIPOC businesses because doing so empowers us all, strengthens our ENTIRE economy, and recognizes the inherent worth and valuable contributions of all people.”
The holiday season is a time when grief can be more difficult to navigate—particularly grief surrounding a recent loss, but also for losses that may have occurred in the last few years. No matter where the bereaved find themselves around the world, and no matter what holidays they observe, celebrations of light and family can make grief harder to bear.
Left unattended, grief can cause you to hurt the people around you. I have never considered myself an angry person. There are only a few
The holiday season is a time when grief can be more difficult to navigate—particularly grief surrounding a recent loss, but also for losses that may have occurred in the last few years. No matter where the bereaved find themselves around the world, and no matter what holidays they observe, celebrations of light and family can make grief harder to bear.
We live in a society and an age where it is natural, common and even expected, for us to try to hold back the hand
I was 8 years old. I had been standing outside of Famous, the pizza house on Main St, for about an hour when my father