Reading stories is an important way to acknowledge both the writer, and their lost loved one.
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I started writing poetry when I was four. Poorly written words on hand-made, hand-coloured cardboard were scribbled out every year
Da thump... Da thump... The very first time I have ever truly learned the sound of my heartbeat was when
My earliest memories are of a happy woman who delighted in having babies and found joy in the small things.
Call me crazy...but…I’m not a big believer in death. If widowhood has taught me anything, it’s this: When one’s body
The snows of Minnesota were legendary in my mother’s tales of childhood winters. Swirling snowstorms she and her sisters would
If anyone has ever known the depths of my heart, it was my Aunt Trisha. She was my mother’s sister,
March 31st always felt like a national holiday in our family. On this day in 1951, Mom and Dad said
Carolyn was my next door neighbor when I moved to Texas in 1997. The first time I met her and
Since losing my beloved Chris almost two months ago I have experienced profound loneliness. However in the quietest of moments