There are no words.

As I look at my Facebook feed, it is clear that there are many new parents in this world. Everyday, every minute, every second…somebody is giving birth. They are creating life. They are taking on the biggest job in the world.

And everyday I see those same people professing their undying love for their child/children.

And then I hear about people disowning their children. Because they’re gay. Because they’re different. For whatever reason. They disagree with them. They disown them. They make a choice to never see them again. Because somewhere down the line their undying love died.

And I guess my question is…where did that love go? Where did that security of knowing that your parents are ‘always on your side’ go? The promise that your parents would never be your first bully. Where did things go wrong? What words could ever erase or conflict that kind of love?

Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of parents who have and always will stand by their children.

I know because I am lucky enough to have two of them, one who is still alive to remind me that there are no words I could say, no actions I could take, no choice I could make that would ever make my dad stop loving me.

And not that half-assed kind of love. Not the kind of love that has limitations. “I love you, BUT I don’t support you.” or “I support you, just not your lifestyle.” It’s the same damn thing. And if you can’t see the difference than your love is limited. And it’s not real.

I was raised on that understanding. I was continuously told those words over and over. THERE ARE NO WORDS. I have a fraction of understanding the kind of love a parent has for their child, even though I don’t have a child of my own, because I’m reminded daily of my father’s promise to me and my sister.

Maybe it’s shame. Maybe it’s confusion. Maybe it’s disagreements. Maybe it’s the inability to live up to set expectations. I’m not sure exactly what could possibly cause a parent to be so disappointed with their child that they would willingly say goodbye. That they would voluntarily miss out on their life.

I recently watched this story of Daniel’s coming out story and it broke my heart. It broke my heart to know that there are people who violently and viciously choose to believe in a few words from a book written thousands of years ago over their own beautiful child they gave birth to or took into their care and promised to raise and be the best parent they could be.

I know I will never choose to leave my child behind. I can promise I’ll make mistakes. I can promise it’s going to get messy sometimes. But I can also promise I’ll always be there. And that’s why I guess I’m waiting until I can truly be the best parent for my child/children. I’ll never understand why people can be so hateful, especially to their own children. I know my children will never know that kind of pain from me.

And thankfully I’ve never known, nor will I ever know that kind of pain from my father. Thanks dad. I love you.


Wandering leaves and warm cars.

Everything reminds me of her.

Warm cars.

Leaves that fall spontaneously to the ground.

It’s like she’s trying to talk to me whenever I find a leaf so perfectly placed on my path. And sometimes I pretend she’s wrapping her arms around me whenever I enter a warm car that has been sitting in the sun for hours. I’m not even mad when my car is 80 plus degrees.

I can’t count the many times that I’ve literally reached for my phone to call her. As if she has a current phone number. As if she was still alive to hear whatever news I so desperately want to share.

I’ve recently began writing letters to my future children. It’s something I would have loved to read from my mother. Every time I find something with her handwriting, I treasure it.

I know my mother loved me. But sometimes it would be nice to hear. And nice to read. And amazing to feel so strongly again. Because on days where I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, I think of the things she would do. Or the things she would say.

I sometimes go into these modes where I just constantly think of my mother for about an hour or so. It starts with a slight panic of realization that SHE’S REALLY GONE.

I’ve lived my life nearly 5 months shy of a decade without her. And the panic still persists. And I eventually have to shake myself into reality and remind myself that I’VE BEEN LIVING WITHOUT HER.

And then it gets TOO QUIET. And I start to talk out loud. I’m just saying things. Things that don’t make a whole lot of sense to anybody but myself. And to her. And it’s just the two of us. And I pray she’s listening.

And then I get mad. But only for a brief moment.

It’s like I go through these really speedy grieving moments over and over. It doesn’t happen everyday. It usually just happens when I have too much time on my hands. So I try to stay busy.

So let me ask you this…

Does grieving ever end? So far, I haven’t found a way completely out.

I always come to the acceptance that SHE’S REALLY GONE. But the sadness is still there. It’s stronger on some days than others.

It mostly just comes when I say to myself, “I would really love to tell my mom about this.”

And I can. I do. I speak out loud. Or I say it in my heart. I tell her how I feel all the time.

But sometimes it would be nice to get a response. A nod. A smile. A hug. An “ok.”

Thank God for wandering leaves and warm cars.