There is a small white box in my closet.  It held Iris’s ashes before we scattered then.  I don’t need the box; it was only a delivery mechanism, a transportation method to her final resting place.  I did not keep Nelle’s box. But I have been unable

My healing might include laughter, tears, throwing something, creating something, talking, not talking. In other words, it will be as unique as my fingerprints and DNA. And my grieving process will be as predictable as the weather – a completely frustrating mystery.  -Unknown I lack any sort of “green thumb.”  At

At some point after the loss after my baby girl, I began to turn my bedroom into a sanctuary. After the loss of my second baby girl, it became even more so. There was the tray.  A mirrored tray on a stand where I put things to honor Nelle: a