Hope
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Healing does not always erase pain; sometimes it means growing large enough that the wound no longer takes up the whole life.
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July fifteenth asks one heart to celebrate a son’s birthday while quietly remembering the pregnancy and grief stitched into the same date.
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The boys are coming home, but relief arrives carrying supervision, weekends away, and the knowledge that another fight may still be waiting.
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Justice may still be face down in the deck, but hope needs somewhere to rest while court dates keep living in the body.
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Grief is complex and personal, intertwining joy and pain; survival alone signifies resilience amidst profound loss and enduring memories.
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A summer trip in Vancouver turns frightening when an almost-two-year-old’s warmth becomes the first sign that something is terribly wrong.
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The work may not come with a paycheck, but every poem and page is building something real one sentence at a time.
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By noon, ordinary chaos has returned—cold coffee, dishes, children, and the small holiness of a lived-in home.
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Two friends learn grief together and keep choosing each other through hospital rooms, cemeteries, laughter, and the years still ahead.
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A five-year-old smile and a sleeping newborn become the first page of a family story no one knew would move so quickly.
