Books Beauty Bling

This blog originally posted on In The Blackest Ink The first day of the new year is always a bit of a mixed bag for me. There's definitely the refreshing feeling of the idea of a clean slate, and also a sense of hope for betterment, and good things to come. There's also that sense of melancholy at the year that's passed, good and bad, but always a bit of a feeling of failure. Failure to have not met the goals of the previous year, or how I've fallen behind on other personal struggles. 2017 was a difficult year for many reasons. In July of 2016, my mom lost her battle with cancer, and the last year and a half have been filled with grief. I'm still navigating my way through the loss of my mother, and what that means as far as the new normal for my family. Every day is different, some harder than others, some with a more sharp reminder of my mom's physical absence. Holidays suck, they're just never going to be the same, and I'm trying to accept that. Eve...

I know the lyric to Across the Universe goes "pools of sorrow, waves of joy," and I understand the meaning. Sorrow can feel like a deep and endless pool, but for me, lately, the waves aren't of joy so much as sorrow and grief. Life lately has been survival and attempting to get back into what is the new "normal." The challenge is, I feel like I'm standing in the ocean, waist deep. Most of the time I'm floating in those pools, or at least along with the calm ebb and flow of the tide, but some days, like on Saturday, I am knocked over completely by a wave so big and powerful it pulls me under and holds me there. It hurts, and I can feel my lungs burning as I strain to hold my breath until the current releases me. This overwhelming ache of loss and sadness. I miss my mommy. I know it never goes away. I know this, and I know that eventually the waves are less powerful, either that or I better learn how to dodge them, ride them. There doesn't seem to be...

I’ve been snooping around my parents house, looking for old photos. I know we have them, my dad loves photography, and I know we have boxes of pictures around here somewhere. Snooping is probably too strong a word, really I’m just searching around. I’m trying to find as many photos of my mom as possible. Most of the photos that are around the house are studio portraits, or other photos of me, from school, from dance. There are few adult pictures of my parents that don’t also include a younger version of me. I want to find these photos because I want to have as many visual reminders of who my mom was, physically, before the cancer came. I want to remember her holding me while I suspiciously suss out Donald Duck, or holding me on her lap in a blue chair that’s almost just as much a part of my childhood memories. I want to remember her smiling, and vibrant, and sometimes, clearly annoyed with the photographer (my dad.) I want all of these as a constant reminder that my mom is so much...