“Don’t worry about anything – or anyone,” my grandmother said, and thumped her cane emphatically, underlining her words. She was speaking from the “other side,” a world where I could not hear her directly, but a gifted psychic could translate her words to me. I don’t...
On this day 46 years ago I gave birth to a baby girl. We named her Maya. She arrived three weeks early so she was was tiny, just 5 lbs. 4 oz. For the rest of her life, Maya was in a hurry. Friends called her "Barbie" because of her white-blonde hair. She had dark...
It’s a day to celebrate, and to mourn. Maya died on April 6, 1992, twenty-six years ago. And on this day, my dear friend Patti Frame received my daughter’s liver, and her life began again. Others received the gift of sight, or a new heart, or a new kidney. And many...
My daughter died 24 years ago on April 6,1992. While more than two decades have passed, the impact of Maya's short life continues. Grieving for Maya invited me to mature spiritually and emotionally, and to reach a new understanding of the meaning of love. Love, in my...
Some people have lucky numbers. Others, unlucky ones. I have a sacred number: 11:11 in the morning, the hour and minute of my daughter Maya's birth. When 11:11 popped up on my iPhone screen this morning, I thought, "Aha, beloved girl. There you are, waking me up...
Today is Maya’s 43rd birthday. I was 43 years old when Maya died, and she was 19. So this year, a mysterious circle is forming. There are so many “I wonders” inside the circle of synchronicity, so many “What ifs?” What if Maya had lived to be middle aged? Who would...
When words wash over you like waves at the beach, make you laugh out loud, or gasp in astonishment, or choke back tears, you know you are hearing a good poem. That's the beauty of poetry - it's music to your ears and to your heart. I write poems in order to hear the...
Maya's quirky little saying, "That's the way live lives," was meant to comfort me. Today, on the 22nd anniversary of her death, it still does. I have a beautiful bouquet of lilacs on my writing table in her honor. Her spunk, fierce intelligence, and beauty are with...
Often, when tragedy strikes, we feel singled out. As if we are the only ones who are suffering. Our culture tends to create an exclusion zone around people who are grieving, or who have been horribly wounded in some way. This only adds to the wounding and makes grief...
"As you approach the holidays, remember: grief is both a necessity and a privilege. It comes as a result of giving and receiving love. Don’t let anyone take your grief away. Love yourself. Be patient with yourself. And allow yourself to be surrounded by loving,...