In Search of Home

How does one define “home” in the absence of parents? Where do we go for the holidays? For long weekends away? Who do I send pictures of my child to? Who do we FaceTime with every day at Noon? Who will call to ask what time we’ll be “hitting the road” to drive to their place?

And who will insist on a phone call “just to let me know you got back ok” when we return? And who will ever again eagerly await our arrival and welcome us with arms open so wide that just the image of them standing there was my very definition of “home”?

My parents tethered me to the earth, and I feel like I’m going to float away without them.

On Loss

It’s been six months since my father left this plane of existence — and five days since my mother joined him. Grief has compounded grief, and I feel the overwhelming weight of emptiness as I remember the last time they filled a hallway together.

A Celebration of Life

The world is burning and people are dying but we took this one day to celebrate life.

She’s lost a grandpa and a great uncle this year. She had her first year of preschool interrupted by the coronavirus. She hasn’t played with a friend in 10 weeks or hugged her high-risk grandma in 12. The last time she saw most of her cousins was at her grandfather’s funeral.

She’d been looking forward to a big party with friends and family for the first time in her short life, but she accepted the sad reality we’re in.

So when she asked for a unicorn birthday cake, you can bet I stayed up until 2:30 a.m. making the cake — and decorating for a party of 3 as though it was the party of her dreams.

Lonesome Dove Redux

The lone dove lost her mate a couple years ago — the image of her guarding his lifeless body is one I cannot shake (no matter how hard I try). She now hangs out with two others; sometimes they tolerate her. Others, they distance themselves whenever she approaches.

Moments before I took this photo, they were resting three in a row. But in the few seconds it took for me to retrieve my camera, the pair took one simultaneous shake of their wings and “hopped” one wire over, leaving the widow alone in their wake.

The Pandemic (From the Perspective of a Three Year Old)

My daughter’s favorite stuffy has been bedridden with a terrible cold for two days now. She’s also started writing/singing songs about needing to stay home to stay well.

We’ve had to walk a fine line between being open and honest with her — and keeping her at peace. But invariably every time we have to explain something new (why play dates are cancelled... why we aren’t going to preschool... why we can’t go to the playground... why we can’t go to restaurants... why we can’t go visit grandma...), the stress digs in a little deeper, no matter how delicately we deliver the words.

Just a reminder that even the littlest humans are indeed still human, and this is a tough time for them, too.

So be patient. Walk away if you get angry, and give them a hug even when their sadness defies all reason. Do whatever you can to make the most of this time together, and when all else fails, remember to give yourself a break, too.