"Piece by piece, I reenter the world. A new phase; a new voice. Birds console me by flying, trees by growing, dogs by the warm patch they leave on the sofa. It is like a slow recovery from a sickness, this recovery of one’s self."

Toby Talbot



Two years ago when my grief was so fresh and the black hole so deep, I thought this would never happen—that I would take pleasure in the small, ordinary events of life. I thought my perception of the world would always be dominated by this piercing, overriding loss of losing my child. The excruciating pain that stabs my heart no longer cuts into my consciousness all the time. Yet, there still isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t cry and long for my daughter, Laura. My heart will ache for her until the day I die.

As you can imagine, November and December are extremely hard months to live through. I try to acknowledge the difficulties of the season and do my best getting through the days, I do what I can to cultivate some inner peace, I grant random acts of kindness in honor of Laura, and I try to laugh when I can.

I pray I will not lose my way before the days quiet down again.