Holding Onto My Loss
It is common, I expect, this desire to “process correctly.” It is a stubborn ideal borne out of independence, success, and the force of personality. We…
My Safe Place
When Camila was a girl, she often drew stories, simple narratives about a girl who had a dog or two friends or a love of dance.…
Being Broken
During my walk with my dog today, we came upon someone else who was walking a dog, as we often do. I made polite conversation as we rounded the corner, but…
Finding My Survival Story
I have learned first hand that everyone in the circle has two stories to tell: the sad, hard story of their son’s or daughter’s death and…
Visions of Life – and Longing
Yesterday was a very hot day. When I was out for my morning walk, people were already headed to the beach in shorts and suits. Some had already…
Listening in the Night
In the wee hours as I slept, I was awakened by the sound of the house settling and immediately assumed Camila was getting up to go…
The Tack I Have Chosen to Take
After Camila died, I found a journal on her nightstand at home. I had come home after living with her in hospitals for ten months, so finding this felt…
Talk To Me
I am always going to miss my daughter. I am always going to be sad that she died. Her loss is permanent. It will not change.…
Prepare for Success
When Camila’s cord blood transplant was only two weeks away, she came out of remission. We moved from Transplant back to Oncology, and there met a…
My identity
I remember being asked in group, “How has your identity changed since the death of your child?” Camila was my only child, and so, like many…
A Compassionate Friend 