My Home

Three o'clock in the morning 

On a Friday

Is when you discover

That home is not a place

But a person

And wherever they go

That is where your home is

Home is the person

That loves you

No matter what

And the feeling

Of being accepted 

No matter what

Home is being welcomed

Back into the fold

Like the prodigal son

Without question

Without reservation 

Home is knowing 

You are safe here 

Even when life is hard

Even when you don't agree

Even when your feelings get hurt

Home is knowing 

The lamp will be on

The tea is waiting

There's snacks in the fridge 

And the best blanket is for sharing 

Home is knowing 

That no one is running away

No one is leaving

And when you call

They always answer

Home is not a place

Not a country

Not a city

Not a house

Home is my person

Waiting up at three o'clock in the morning 

On a Friday

Doing the World Different

I don't want to be like everyone else.
I want to do the world differently. 

I want to be okay with not being okay. 
I want to make friends with my demons. 
I want to sit in the dark with people. 
I want to find beauty in the tragedy. 
I want to try and try and try again. 
I want to stay when things get hard. 
I want to forgive the unforgivable. 
I want to love the unlovable. 

I want to be patient with those who are impatient.
I want to be kind to those who are unkind. 
I want to be strong for those who are weak. 
I want to be steady for those who are shaking. 
I want to be soft for those who are hard. 
I want to be a safe space for those who feel shame. 
I want to keep my heart open with those who have shut down. 

I want to check on the people who wouldn't think about checking on me. 
I want to cross oceans for people who wouldn't cross the street for me. 
I want to keep loving the people that leave me. 
I want to believe in the fundamental goodness of people. 

In a world that has tried to silence my voice, I choose to speak. 
In a world that has given me reason to weep, I choose to laugh. 
In a world that has given me an overwhelming burden to carry, I choose to dance. 
In a world that has given me reason to be afraid, I choose to find joy. 
In a world that has given me reason to hate, I choose to spread love.

And just like that, the magic has returned.

Life Unfolding

I hate the version of my life that doesn't have you in it. 

I hate the empty spaces in my home.  

I hate the gaps in my day that you used to fill.

I hate that I will never hold you again or hear you laugh.

Life doesn't stop for me. 

Life doesn't end for me. 

There will be laughter and tears, love and loneliness. 

There will be grand adventures and quiet nights staying in. 

Life will keep unfolding without you. 

I will appear to be happy without you. 

But I will always hate the version of my life that doesn't have you in it. 

a world gone mad

my friend called it 

perception of control

this need I have to 

clean and organize

declutter, all the things

rearrange the furniture 

sort things into piles

I am so desperate 

to feel like 

something 

is under my control

desperate to make sense 

of things 

in a world gone mad

this is how I found myself 

sitting on the floor 

in the living room

surrounded by empty bins, trash bags,

piles of clothes, a pair of skates

some old sunglasses, a dusty fedora

wood carving tools, pocket watches

a pair of cufflinks, some flashlights,

a pink stuffed bunny 

and a brown teddy bear

scribbles on notepads, 

a kindle and an old phone

this is how I found myself 

clutching a carhartt jacket

sobbing and retching

great heaving sobs

keening and wailing

while I crawled into a pile 

of t-shirts, sweatshirts, 

dress shirts and ties

curled in a ball

covered with tears and snot

this is how I found myself,

three days after Christmas 

drowning in despair and

surrounded by the detritus 

of two lives

lost too soon

alone and still trying 

to make sense 

of a world gone mad

I Didn't Know What to Say

"I didn't know what to say" 

More than one person has said that to me. People that love me. People that have completely ignored the fact that my son died. Because they didn't know what to say. 

So they said nothing. They didn't call. They didn't text. They didn't show up at a funeral home and stand in line waiting to hug me. 

They didn't send a heart emoji or a hug emoji or a sympathy card. 

They left me to grieve without their love and support. Because they didn't know what to say. 

Here is what I know... 

If you don't reach for me, it is very unlikely that I will reach for you. 

If you don't invite me to talk about him, I won't. 

There are maybe three people that aren't my therapist that I will talk to about what I am feeling right now. 

No one says his name. No one. It feels like the world has forgotten him already. 

No one checks on me. No one. Perhaps because no one know what to say. 

Asking 'how are you' in a store as we walk past each other does not count as checking on me. I'm fucking fine. And if you really wanted to know how I am, you'd call. 

That said, I won't answer your call, because I don't want to talk to you about it, unless you are one of the aforementioned three people. 

Voicemails that say you love me are always welcome. 

If I love you, I will hug you when I see you in the store, but only for a minute, because I don't want to start crying. 

I am angry. 

Here is what you can say.... 

I'm so sorry. 

This sucks. 

I can't imagine what you are going through. 

I'm thinking of you. 

I wish this wasn't happening to you. (Me too!)

I hate that you are going through this.

There are no good words. 

I love you. 

I don't know what to say, but I'm here. 

Don't... 

Tell me you know what I'm going through. (You don't!)

Ask me what you can do to help. (Nothing!)

Ask me how I am when you see me in the store. (You could say, 'nice to see you.')

Expect me to call you.

Expect me to ask you for help. Ever. 

Get offended when I ignore calls, texts, messages. 

Here are more suggestions for when you have no words.... 

Send a picture of a rainbow. 

Send a heart emoji. 

Share a Facebook reel of a cat doing something stupid, or cute. 

Tell me something you are grateful for. 

Share something that you find magical. 

Share an inspirational reel that reminds me that I am brave and strong and shit like that. (It does make me smile.) 

More things that I know... 

Grief is complicated and messy, especially so when you are grieving suicide. 

There is no heartbreak like that of losing a child. Or two. 

Grief breaks your heart and your brain. 

Talking about him may make me cry, but it will also remind me that he is loved. 

The discomfort you feel when you don't know what to say is nothing compared to the heartache I feel. 

Sitting with someone who is grieving can be uncomfortable. Sit with them anyway.

No one should have to eat cake alone. 

the moth

there is a thought 

fluttering 

like a moth 

around my head

a glimpse

out of the

corner

of my eye

I purposely

turn my head 

away

so I don't notice

I can't 

look

too closely

I don't 

want 

to see it

the moth 

is death

screaming 

at me

and if I don't 

look,

if I don't 

see it

I can ignore

the words

screaming 

in my head

Ben is dead. 

16 weeks

November 9, 2025

16 weeks

I woke up this morning to an alert on my phone. Bens marathon, starts in 28 minutes. Ben is not running a marathon today. Ben is dead. 

Instead of meditating, I start to cry. But not real tears, not keening and sobbing tears, just leaking and shuddering tears. I hold myself so tightly,  determined to not feel, not fall apart. 

For months I have been avoiding. I don't count the days, weeks months. I don't think about him dying every Sunday afternoon. I don't wallow in grief. Instead I get on with the business of living. I cancel his car insurance and close his bank accounts. I clean out his bedroom and collect his mail. And I do it all without fully experiencing grief. 

Instead I am angry. So angry I want to smash things. So angry I want to throw things and scream and curse. I am avoiding people. Avoiding thinking about it. Avoiding talking about it. Avoiding feeling it. 

But this morning my phone reminds me that Ben wanted to run a marathon. Ben wanted to go to college and become a doctor. Ben wanted to fall in love and get married. 

This morning is a Sunday. 16 weeks since Ben ate his last cinnamon roll. 16 weeks since Ben went on his last hike. 16 weeks since Ben decided that living hurt too much. 16 weeks since Ben took his own life. 

16 weeks of trying not to feel. 16 weeks of trying not to cry. 16 weeks of trying not to fall apart. 16 weeks of trying not to grieve. 

Today I wish that he was with us, to celebrate birthdays, to watch football, to eat Thanksgiving pie. Today I wish he was with us, to laugh, to joke, to hug. Today, I wish that Ben was running a marathon and I was there cheering him on.