Three weeks ago this morning, you passed away. I’ve had the most difficult time trying to sit down and write this. I think I’ve put it off because writing about you forces me to put into words what my heart and mind are still struggling to reconcile. You aren’t just away, only to call me in a few days. You aren’t in the hospital. You aren’t on vacation or out traveling the world. No… you’re gone. And you aren’t ever coming back. And Mom, I’m having such a hard time lett

(Written in 2020 - during The Covid Lockdown) It was 10 years ago… the last time I was kept indoors. It was late, probably after 11. I had just found the article in the obituaries… Marilyn Schipp had passed away on September 30, 2010 from cancer, leaving behind 6 children, many grandchildren, and a few great-grandchildren. Marilyn was my grandmother… …and I didn’t even know she was sick. I had to get out from under that roof. I needed to feel the air. I remember how the ceme

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be sitting alone in my bedroom, tears streaming down my face, unanswered questions circling my mind, heartbroken and writing about this… again. But here I am. Writing about how I have more babies in Heaven than I do here on earth. The total comes to six. Six unborn promises. Six little faces I will never watch grow. Six different personalities I will never fully know… at least not on this side of Heaven. …and although I loved each one deeply