Life pushes and pulls at the strength that remains in an attempt to knock me over. However it has failed to realize that I do not merely stand upon this Earth, I have through shear will managed to grow roots from my soul that run deep into the ground giving me the power to sway with the fury of the storm. Yes struggles can break some, but I refuse to let them destroy me. I will learn from them, survive them, and claim victory over them strengthening the roots that hold me firmly in place and healing the scared heart that beats in my chest.


“Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength.” -Unknown

The green of the sky foreshadows the inevitable…the gray and purple clouds once again joining together overhead. The lightning flashes and the thunder clacks its ever to familiar warning as I stand in wait of another downpour of emotion. Rapidly trying to find a place to file away each feeling as they fall in giant drops from the ominous sky, flipping through my filing cabinet of coping and storing them away. “A” for anger and anxiety, “F” for fear, “P” for pain, “R” for resentment, remorse and regret. The drops I miss or can not yet find a place for fall from my eyelashes and cascade down my nose becoming one with a river of tears and begin to puddle at my feet, swiftly rising covering my knees, hips and encompassing my chest. The frigid sea of blue covers my body overpowering my mouth and nose and it is in this moment, this one painful moment, I must once again decide whether to sink or to swim.

Often throughout grief I struggle with the thought of J.T.’s significance. His importance is quite obvious to those of us who loved and knew him intimately, but it is a great gift to me when others who’s life he shared still carry with them a piece of my precious child. Yesterday at J.T.’s elementary school the fourth grade, his classmates, had their Field Day. It is one of the more exciting end of the year activities where the kids compete in athletic events against their peers, and the parents come and cheer them on. In our house, for my Son, this day was highly anticipated and it was there yesterday that I received the gift of significance. For in one short, bittersweet moment after the crowd was greeted and the National Anthem sung, the school dedicated the fourth grade Field Day in honor and memory of J.T. Crow. In that moment I felt him there, his chest puffed up with pride... or perhaps it was my pride I was feeling to know that so many still carry him with them as well.

If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden.
- Attributed to Claudia Ghandi


The dead cannot cry out for justice; it is the duty of the living to do so for them.
- Lois McMaster Bujold

As the shards of sand in the hourglass gently tumble down to the other side counting down the moments to Mother’s Day I find myself once again wrenched by that all too familiar pain. I know that I will always be “J.T.’s Mom” but that fact gives me no comfort in having to face the day without his physical presence. He was always my act two in a three-act play, instigator of breakfast in bed, which consisted of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and a Capri Sun, always putting the straw in for me. Bestowing me with the most precious gifts a mother can receive little homemade cards with paint-smeared handprints and a list of reasons why he loves me, always the simplest of things that I cherish and cling to when I need reminding. I’m not quite sure how to face my first Mother’s Day without him, his wet kisses and sparkling eyes, his loving words and warm hugs. For now the memories seem old and so small and the anticipation new and painful and raw.



The day goes by like a shadow o’er the heart, with sorrow, where once was delight.
-Stephen Foster