Calendars everywhere tell me it’s almost 2015, but that can’t be right. I’m still writing checks for the year 2000!
For now I’ll pretend calendars are right and tell you about the year
20002014 as I lived it:
- I met my second son, Littler J, on the ten-year anniversary of my meeting his father. It was love at first sight.
- I wanted to encourage my older son’s love of school-based learning, leading me to enroll him at an alternative school. The experience was terrible; I spent the first few months of Littler J’s life kicking myself for not recognizing Li’l D signs of distress earlier. As the year progressed, I delighted in seeing my son flourishing once more, and growing into a love of reading and math thanks to teachers happy to welcome him back to his old school.
- My husband was promoted to assistant directing after years of working as a Production Assistant. (I had a chance to witness him flourishing in this new role; it was beautiful.)
- Li’l D started kindergarten. (But didn’t I just bring him home from the hospital?!?!)
- I celebrated my brother-in-law’s commencement of medical school. While the accomplishment was his own, it was beautifully bound up in a shared history that once led my mom to say he’d always be our family … even if he and my sister ever broke up. I wept for me, for him, for my mom, and most of all for hope as I watched him receive his short coat.
- I seized an opportunity to be a work at home mom. I relished the extra time with my boys, which relishing didn’t stop me from realizing I very, very much enjoy working–and especially negotiating, with adults—in an office setting. (More on that revelation later!)
- I accepted an offer to begin an exciting job in the new year. (More on that later!)
A couple of my most visited posts Read more…
A new year nears,
And I wonder:
Dare I seek?
In asking, I find
The things I want
That can be
Store bought, or
Grasped with my hands
Seeing (the better to know)
Knowing (the better to change)
Changing (the better to uplift)
Uplifting (the better to soar)
Soaring (the better
To show my sons
What it is like
To be free)
Here is to our taking flight in 2015!
This post uses the n-word, spelled out for reasons explained in footnote.
I wrote “On your first Christmas without her” for a friend last year.
I was surprised when that post started turning up in searches more than a month ago. But Christmas is so far away!
As Christmas draws nearer, more and more people find that post with search terms like “first christmas without my mom” and “christmas without mom.” I’m no longer surprised that they’re searching now or that they were searching then, because … of course. This is the time of year when the resounding push toward collective joy can actually enhance the sense of isolation in grieving:
There they all are going about life as usual, expecting life to go on as usual, and here I am with no idea what “as usual” means anymore.
I wrote last year’s post after a conversation with my then four-year-old son. This year, I see those search terms as the start of another conversation worth having a little earlier.
I’ve thought about grief a lot more since then. When my husband’s friend lost her baby a month ago, I thought about how people sometimes disappear from grievers’ lives after they realize they can’t fix grief. More than that, I thought about why. I finally understood that when people disappear during other’s grief, it usually reflects not callousness but a sense of powerlessness: Read more…
I routinely get emails for a couple other women named Deborah.
I don’t usually read more than a sentence or two of their emails. Once I realize I’m not the intended recipient for a letter, I shoot off a short note letting its sender know they’ve gotten the wrong Deborah. I’d like others to do the same so I can get my emails to their intended recipients.
Only once did I read the whole letter.
Its sender forwarded a letter from his doctor. The opening explained that his doctor–who had become a friend–had urged him to open up about his cancer to his partner, his Deborah, Read more…