October 25, 2015

autumn 2015.

The leaves are falling from the oak and maple trees in the backyard. They dance their way down to our feet. Leif stomps on the crisp leaves and laughs — Mommy! Crunchy, crunchy!

While I close the garden, he fills the feeders and calls out to the birds — Common Chickadee! Cardinal! Wren! Common Bluejay! Common Woodpecker! 

It is a beautiful bright autumn day. The colours are bursting, red and gold and brown. It looks like an oil painting, my love.

I stand here under the tall oak, the leaves drifting and spiralling in the wind, and I think about seasons and time and him and you.

I think about you.

Always, my love.

September 29, 2015

Grateful he gets to live his Life.

Our beloved, lucky, second son, Leif.

September 19, 2015

In a few short months, he will turn 3 years old.

It's my favourite thing in the whole world watching this boy grow up.

August 30, 2015

"Mommy come here!"

"Bird! It dead!"

We crouch over a bird lying in the grass. Its wings are spread open. I wave my hand to shoo away the flies.

"What kind?" Leif asks. I tell him it looks like a finch and we continue to study the little brown bird. I turn it over and notice a puncture wound on the side of its head.

Leif points to the yellow colour in the tip of its tail. "It beautiful!" he says.

We dig a hole and bury the bird under a honey-locust tree behind our house. Leif picks up a nearby pinecone and says he wants to put it on top. He places it gently on the small pile of earth.

"It needs one more thing," I tell him and we go to the garden. I pick two sprigs of lavender and lay them next to the pinecone.

We stand over the grave and Leif gives it one last pat with his shovel. "Goodbye bird," he says.

/photo here

August 21, 2015

for liam.

Mount Mansfield, Vermont


August 19, 2015

August 6, 2015


Liam turned four. His birthday was planned well in advance — the hotel booked a few days after he turned three. We talked about waking up with the sun, again, and hiking on the mountain where Leif took his first unsupported steps last year. I liked the thought of watching my second son run ahead of me in the fields. Maybe, if I felt strong enough, I would allow myself to imagine them both running in the tall grass together.

His third birthday was full of sunny skies. His fourth was dark and stormy.

The sun broke through every now and then but it was mostly grey. We walked under rain clouds and took cover in a tractor barn. I forgot to pack jackets, so we decided to turn back and head home early.

As we drove, I watched the clock. 1:36pm — when he began to live and die. 3:05pm — when he took his last breath.

The years pass and nothing has changed. He is still missing. I still feel helpless.

The days go on and so does the love for my son gone too soon.