I call it the ball and jar analogy. Often I find myself referring back to it when I need help with my grieving, which includes my levels of patience and tolerance. This is my interpretation.

Do I have a new code of moral ethics that rationalizes selfishness for my survival?

I’ve always called it the bewitching hour. That hour before dinner. The hour when everyone melts down from their day. I miss it so much.

Today I write in honor of all moms who have lost their precious children.

It’s school vacation week again, a time of the school season I used to really love because I could just hang out with my daughters. But now I dread it.

It is a natural feeling to want to connect with your loved one after death. There is a need for reassurance that they are o.k. no matter what you may or may not believe.

Now and again you might think “what if” something happened to my child but you quickly dismiss the thought because it is too painful and frightening to imagine; it strikes a nerve so deep that you avoid the subject at all costs.

Often I find myself apologizing for talking about my deceased daughter. I’m so conscious of the discomfort of others that I tend to say “I'm sorry” after I bring my personal heartache into a conversation.

In the early days after your child dies, it can be quite clear to the outside world what stage of grief you are in - shock, anger, etc. But as times passes, they see us functioning again, maybe even having a laugh. Do they think we're "over it"? We learn to hide our grief behind a mask.

I had a ban on all terminology that conveyed death and loss. Saying “my daughter died” was literally impossible. But so was using the phrase “my daughter passed away” or “we lost our daughter”. I avoided phrases such as “I almost died…” or “I would kill for…” or “I died when…”.