children, grief, landscape, moving forward, Photograph by Tamara Beachum
This is the overwhelming thought that I have these days: “You are missing so much.” Life events, big and small still occur. A problem with which we had long struggled is slowly beginning to resolve. Decisions are made. The lives of our children are beginning to take shape as they become young adults. We go off on new adventures. I see your influence. I hear your voice (and sometimes I choose not to listen.) We continue to live and I wouldn’t have that any other way. “He knows,” I’ve been told. “He’s still with you,” they say. Maybe that’s right. I don’t know yet and, frankly, neither do they. I’ll hope for that but in the meantime I can’t help but think of all you are missing. Does this phrase resonate with you? I’d love to know. Leave a comment in the box below....
children, Photograph by Ken Gehle, Photography, Wordless Wednesday
All of the Wordless Wednesday images are available as fine art prints. See the details...
children, Father's Day, gratitude, Holiday
“I believe that what we become depends on what our fathers teach us at odd moments, when they aren’t trying to teach us. We are formed by little scraps of wisdom.” ~ Umberto Eco I’m grateful today for the awesome fathers in the lives of my children and my bonus children. They have taught lessons both on purpose and without trying. Amazing men I am proud to know and...
children, grief, letting go, memories, parenting, Photograph by Tamara Beachum
When my kids were small I would easily purge toys and ephemera from their rooms with some regularity. A few items that they couldn’t quite release yet would be put in boxes that I would store for them to go through later. Later never really came though and now that they are all grown up they don’t have an interest in those boxes at all. “Give it all away,” my daughter said casually. She didn’t feel the need to look. Now that they are on the other side of childhood it’s harder for me to just load up the boxes for donation. So I’ve been going through them and, even though very few objects are making the cut, it has been an emotionally challenging job. But there was a bright spot that lifted my spirits when I got to the bottom of the most recent box and found this little sweetheart of a snow globe. I can’t recall all of the details around it and my co-rememberer (yes, I made that up), her father, is not here for me to ask. I seem to remember this snow globe was in my daughter’s Easter basket one year. The date on the bottom, 1998, probably means it was her last Easter basket as an only child. Her nickname at the time was “little duck.” When her brother began to talk he gave her a new nickname and there was no going back. Immediately, I knew where this snow globe would live next. A friend’s daughter has Asperger’s Syndrome. Birthdays are hard for her. While she would like to have a...
children, just be, landscape, Photograph by Tamara Beachum, Photography
My daughter is home this week. One week for me to be with her between her Sophomore and Junior year in college before her wanderlust takes her to Yellowstone NP for the summer. So far we have run errands, shopped for hiking clothes, caught up on doctor appointments and put away items I’m purging that she will want for her own apartment sooner than I will be ready. Death has taught me to live in the now. So that’s what I’ll be doing this week, enjoying today with my girl. Take care of you. “All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost.” ~ J.R.R....
children, grief, heARTmaking activities, Holiday
Halloween marks the gateway to the holidays for me. Family traditions start to take center stage again, the air turns crisp and I can feel the ghosts of ‘what was’ starting to gather. Long-standing ways of marking the special days don’t work quite the same now. We adjust. For as long as I can remember, Ken made homemade pizza on Halloween. He was a master at making the yeast dough, hovering over it the better part of the day to punch it down when needed. I’m a decent cook but pizza dough that is consumable is not in my bag of tricks. (Our daughter helps in this photo taken fifteen years ago today.) I tried to make it myself one year but that effort resulted in a lump of goo at the bottom of the trash can and tears, mine. We ordered a pizza; it was not the same in many ways. So we adjust again. We could abandon the practice but I would prefer to preserve it for my son who is still at home. He has memories of Halloween pizza just like I do. Soon I will be off to the bakery where they sell a fine freshly made pizza dough in a plastic bag. My son doesn’t trick-or-treat anymore so maybe he will help me put it together tonight, the evolution of a tradition. Last year I offered a workshop with tips on getting through the holidays when you are grieving a loss. It included a short activity booklet with tips and tools that I include for you here. I hope you find it useful this season....
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