It’s been 2 years since my son was killed by an IED in Iraq. The overwhelming grief has been replaced by bits and pieces of sadness and loss, tucked away in private moments. The amazing thing is that after this time there are still the dreaded “places to avoid.” They are not places like the cemetery where Rhys is buried. That is a place I love to go, to quietly contemplate a short life, well-lived. They are not places like Rhys’ room, or his favorite restaurant, or any of the places he like to frequent. The dreaded places are not even in the company of his friends.

The places I avoid have to do with the notification of a sudden, unexpected death of someone most dear to your heart. (more…)

Guilt has seeped in to the deepest recesses of my person lately. Not because I’ve done something completely wrong, but because of gnawing jealousy. It is the oddest kind of jealousy; the kind that stirs when you are really trying so hard to be kind and joyful for someone else.

The jealousy comes when parents talk joyfully about their sons and daughters, whether they are very young or they are tentatively entering the world of adult responsibilities. I love to hear about the accomplishments, big and small but the jealousy begins like a sound in my ears, like the sound of trickling water. Could it be tears bubbling somewhere from within, rising to the surface and then painfully tamped down and carefully choked back? I think about my son and what he would be doing at this point in his life. I wonder about the pride and joy that I would be sharing with others, maybe oblivious to their pain at tragic circumstances in their lives. (more…)