Nichole Smith at Chaos in the Country asked me to write a guest post for her blog from the perspective of the family of an organ donor. Nichole understands donation on a very personal level: her niece received a donated heart. We are both grateful for the miracle of...
About six months after my 19-year-old daughter Maya died, I remember walking home from the commuter train station in so much pain I was not sure I could make it. When I reached my driveway, I was choking back tears. I looked up and saw a giant Redwood tree, the furls...
When I look back on my 25 years of single parenthood, I shake my head in wonder. I pulled on my pantyhose every day (this was in the 1980s and 90s) and went to a corporate job. I made breakfasts and lunches, drove kids to school, helped with homework, scheduled and...
"I’m drawn to those defiant souls who refuse to submit to tough circumstances, those who jut out their chins and stubbornly defy the odds." -- Donald Dempsey, author of Betty's Child I'm pleased to welcome fellow Dream of Things author Donald Dempsey for a guest post...
For months, I’ve stared at the grainy ultrasound on my daughter’s refrigerator. But on July 30, that black and gray image came into focus. Francesca Blanche Coleman arrived, all 8 lbs., 1 oz. of her. The moment I held her in my arms – little pointed chin, rosebud...
A few days before my father turned 91, I reminded him of this milestone. “Why that’s amazing,” he said, surprised and delighted, wrapped in a protective cocoon of dementia. My father’s only choice at that point was to be here now. This man smoked two packs of...
Two years after my 19-year-old daughter Maya was killed in a freak accident, I met the recipient of her donated heart: a middle-aged Chilean businessman, his wife, and their two children. My book Swimming with Maya describes that initial meeting and the friendship...
I am blessed by wonderful friends. A number of them are women young enough to be my daughters. Today, I opened my mailbox to find a letter from one of them, Kelli Jones. It was a fan letter, a love letter, a blast of encouragement strong enough to make me vow to write...
It is April 6, the anniversary of Maya’s death in 1992, a day when my internal clock stopped. My daughter is dead. After more than two decades, I am still not used to that. I see Maya as a vibrant 19-year-old. But she would be turning 41 this October. Her grave lies...
Six months after Maya died, I was at a business meeting where a colleague shared her devastation over the death of her dog. All I could think was, “You can replace a dog but I can never replace Maya.” I ran from the room and barely made it back to my desk before I...