On Loss, Love, and Life


I’ve been bogged down, so no original post from me today. However, read this post by Kelli Worrall and then explore the rest of her blog. It’s filled with amazing, personal stories. This is the moving post that won me over.

This Odd House

grandma and sisters

The four older Kimball sisters just after their mother died.

“A time to seek, and a time to lose.” (Ecclesiastes 3:6)

My mother’s mother, Grandma Ruby, was born on January 12, 1909, in a little house with a crooked brick chimney in the-middle-of nowhere, North Dakota. She was the middle daughter of five. And in her unpublished memoir, My Burden Bearer, she records just a few images from her early childhood. Her mother rocking her, singing the “Beautiful Isle of Somewhere,” setting the table daily with a white cloth so her girls would grow up to be ladies.

Then in chapter two, way too early, she writes about her first trauma. Her first big Loss. She was six.

Sister number five had just been born when Grandma Ruby’s mother became ill. Grandma was shipped off to stay with some friends. Her sisters were sent elsewhere.

“Once they took me…

View original post 2,333 more words


Oh, Captain, My Captain.


I’d be remiss to not write about the news of Robin Williams’ passing today. I honestly was not even going to post anything, but I stumbled across this well written post on Robin Williams, celebrity, and pain. By the way, Robin Williams, to me, meant Aladdin, Hook, Mrs. Doubtfire, and Jumanji, which means a nice chunk of my own childhood.

These Hopeful Daze

Robin Williams died, and it was most likely suicide. He had been struggling with depression for a long while. There’s a flood of posts on social media about how he brought laughter to others and how he was a talented soul, and I agree so heartily with those sentiments, but there’s something more that’s nagging at me right now. There’s something tugging violently at my heartstrings that I cannot ignore it.

The man who brought joy to others could not find joy himself.

We spectate on the lives of celebrities and we consume what they give us and then we move on. Robin Williams’ death will not impact our lives in the long term, but today it is all that Facebook can speak about. The posts about ISIS are suspended in favour of the death of a comedian, and I understand. I understand that we’re attached to this individual because…

View original post 198 more words