This is one of my favorite photos of Gunnar and I. Part of my "mom job" was to record life through photos. I have hundreds of photos documenting Gunnar's childhood but only a few of he and I together. For this photo, we set the self timer on the camera and jumped on the couch--just in time for the camera to click. The self timer on the camera brings on the laughter, so for this photo we were laughing before we landed on the couch. Gunnar was fresh out of bed and was not an enthusiastic participant--until the timer was set--then ---game on. As his Mom, I am biased , but he is "All kinds of handsome".

I am not a huge journal writer. I jot my thoughts on scrapes of paper. When my desk drawer and nightstand reach overflowing, I collect the scrapes and read my scribbled thoughts. I read and am moved by memory to places past. Here are some thoughts of mine from August 2009.

“Grief is a violent reworking of the deepest part of my being. I wake up to a world with no color—only sharp contrasting edges. The music is gone. It is as if all the notes have fallen off the page and all that remains is blank sheet music.’’

The contrast within myself is exhausting. I have often thought, “Grief doesn’t really begin until the heart figures out what happened.”

My mind can understand the mechanics of death—rebel cancer cells that refuse to yield or scare tissue preventing the sinoatrial signal from traveling to the next cell in the heart wall. Such is the language of my mind. My mind needs understanding—the facts—the who, the what, the where help bring order to the chaos—the new world—that I really do not want to know.

My heart finds no comfort in facts. It protests at an ear piercing pitch in response to the loss. I think of Strider from JRR Tolkien’s book, Lord of the Rings “Memories are not what the heart desires.””

As of today, the protest of my heart is quieter. I know the color and music will return—not the same but I welcome the return whatever form it may take.

Mother's Day 2010

My Sweet Twenty-something friends made my day. We had a beautiful brunch at Anthony's. Thank you René,Lauryl and Miss Brit.I am immensely thankful for all the love that flowed my way this day via facebook,blog messages,phone calls and "hey let's drop by her house."

In the grief world,connection brings comfort.It may not lessen the pain,yet I contend, the effort translates into hope and comfort.I am the beneficiary of great support this day.

Maiden Post

I've thought about it, talk about it and in honor of Mother's day, I begin my blogging adventure. I intend to use this space to share my musings on grief. Grief as I have experienced it thus far; somedays as an invader other days a great teacher.

I also plan to share stories of my two sons, Gunnar and Hayden. I will begin with Mother's past.

I smile as I recall artwork from their preschool years--purple and blue handprints bedazzled with glitter and sincere attempts printing their names--the best.

I am going to brunch with friends this Mother's day. I am thankful for good friends.

As I reflect on past Mother's days I am full of gratitude for the wild and glorious ride of motherhood.