“When a Child Dies” or “Love”.

When a child dies

When a relationship is over.

Then what?

If you dig you finger into a wound, what did you expect to happen?

You might not expect to open a streaming pile of blood and pus

But maybe that’s what’s there.

Maybe it does need to be lanced. It probably does. But did it need to be now?

I just wanted some peace. A time to relax.

To lie on a beach.

To swim. To be me.

The real me. The calm peaceful me.

Did it have to be now?

Probably. No time like the present, right?

No time like the present to deal with the past.

But it fucking hurt. It hurts. Don’t look.

Push it back under the rug.

Turn your face away.

No, more gently this time.

Like a jagged daggered spear in your heart

You might leave it there for a bit, but eventually it has to come out.

It will fester, rot. You have to move on. You have to stop hating, hurting, denying, torturing yourself.

You have to move on.

As you pull it out, it eventually becomes the tiny tip of a thorn

As you pull it out, be gentle so it doesn’t bleed too much, but you must get it out.

Eventually, it’s just a small splinter in your paw

Your poor paw

Your prickly pear.

Who’s prickly now?

Who’s sorry now? (Too many songs!)

I read Evie a book last night.

The Nightmare in Your Closet. She loves that book. It helps her sleep.

What’s in your closet? you said.

Do you take your nightmare, shoot it or forgive it?

Cuddle up with it, or fight?

The nightmare in your closet. The too much stuff. The exploding T-shirt drawer.

It has to be dealt with.

Or it oozes,


6 years is a long time to build a life with someone.

14 years is a long time to be married.

One loss can rip open another, if you let it.

Mourn properly. Be strong.

So one died, you have another. It doesn’t have to cancel things out.

Be joyous. And I am.

What would Grace say to me if she was alive?

How long does grieving take

A year? 2 years? Six? Forever?

You don’t have to let go, to forget.

But there’s a way to remember, to honour, with intention and not constant heartbreak.

You have to move on.

Time marches on.

The tide stops for no man.

My friends stop, though.

You stopped.

Thanks for checking in on me, friends.

Thank you for the time, and the support.

I’m sorry I pushed people away when Grace died.

I was an idiot. I was wrong.

It take a village. I know that now.

I’ll take all the love and support I can get.

Thank you.

I love them all. Those babies. All the dead ones. The unnamed. The unburied.

I loved Grace, I love Evie. I adore her. What the hell did I do right in the world that she was granted to me.

Was she waiting for me to be ok?

Love is not pie.

There more of it you give, the more you take, the more there is.


It’s a good life

It hurts sometimes

This wrenching heart-opening

It cracks ribs

It exposes me

My heart

That delicate fluttering, this… vulnerability


It shouldn’t hurt, he says

Why? Why does it hurt?

Embrace it, he says.

Turn towards it.

What the fuck’s wrong with you?


Thank you, I say.  Sorry.

But that’s not right either.

That’s weak.

Man up, he says, with his piercing blue eyes.

You’re better than this.


That’s not the end.

It’s not the beginning.

It’s definitely not the best part.

And definitely not the worst.


The best part was ahi

And a man that hugs like a tree


And boiling waters below

And mighty waves above,

Smashing against the cliffs.


To not being smashed.

To magical waterfalls

And peace.


And friends that FaceTime

To exes that remain present,

Who support when everything else feels like it’s falling down.

To sobriety.  To being strong.

But not so strong I can’t be touched.


To self care.  And learning.

To being alone.  To standing up.


And love.  Love.  Open to love, but not needing.

To openness, to be kind. To caring, and being cared for.  To all of it, but needing none of it.

To caviar.

good_life[The hat says “It’s a good life”!]

Jetlagged in Montreal

If my heart were to burst open right now, I don’t know what would pour out of it.

Maybe a winged-like bat creature, searching frantically, sonically for something to love?

Maybe a torrent of tears, pouring out of me and retuning me to the ocean?

Maybe an inky blackness, hiding in the cavities, slinking through the shadows, flattened against hollows and disappearing into the night?

Maybe a joyful song would burst forth, surprising all of us?

I don’t know, anymore, what to expect.

But I know by the fluttler and the ache that something is in there.  Something lives.

It is not a dried up moth, or a cobwebbed Miss Havisham hand.

Something in there pulsing, on edge, wanting freedom.

Let me the fuck out.

And one day I will.


I didn’t know this before I had Evie, but having kids makes you feel special.   At least, it does me.  And I know that’s weird.  I mean, most people have kids, right?  It is normal; it doesn’t make you special. 

But it is special.  

Yes, I have read those studies that say that people with children are actually less happy that those that don’t.  I suppose I could be made to believe that.  But not really. 

Of course you give up a lot: A lot of freedom, a lot of… actually, I am having trouble of thinking about what else.  I am still me.  I don’t feel any different.  I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything.  I am not more mature, enlightened.  I am not kinder, calmer.  I am not angrier.  I am not even more sleep-deprived.  But I do find it difficult to think of anything BUT her. The “‘mental load” thing? It’s true. She fills my waking and sleeping moments. My brain is leaking with details (did she get her latest shots, when is that first school tour, I need to reschedule my after-care, is her diet balanced, I need to buy her new underwear, etc. etc. etc.)

I am not defined by being a mother.  I’m not just Evie’s mum… but I am changed.

I think the only way I can describe it is that I have levelled-up as a human.   (Can you tell I work in videogames? 😉)  I have expanded my horizons.  I feel a whole new set of feelings I have never experienced before.  I have unlocked a new level, a new set of challenges, a whole bucketful of feelings.  I would literally die for Evie.  

When I see a pregnant woman now, I think “I’ve been there”.  I LOVED being pregnant, loved every second of it.   When I see a tiny, sleeping baby, eyes welded shut like a kitten, I reminisce “Awww, remember when Evie was that small?”  When I see a parent struggling with a rowdy toddler, I want to help, to assist with bags, to catch their eye and empathize, to make them smile.  (I want to hold the baby, too.  That’s the other thing about becoming a parent.  It’s a disease: once you love your own baby, you find other people’s cute as well!)

You’ve joined the club.

The closest thing I can describe it to is being high.  How do you describe what its like to smoke pot or take E (or molly or whatever the kids are calling it these day) to someone that has never done it? How do you describe locking eyes with someone, the secret nod, the shared humanity, the recognition of a being on a higher plane? 

Now I know.

Having kids is like that. 

I had no idea it was going to be like this.  Little did I know. Little do I know. How much I have to learn. 

For instance, now I know why every parent thinks their kid is a genius.  They just did something new for the first time.  It’s just so much fucking fun.  It is seriously a trip.  Evie just turned 3, but she already loves to cook, can count to 20 (in English and Spanish), can spell and write our names, and “kiss it better” if I have a boo-boo.   To anyone else, it’s nothing… but to me, everything she does is miraculous!  This morning, she climbed into my bed to read me a story.  That’s MY kid that did that.  It seems like only yesterday she was pointing at everything and saying “woof”.   (Paul and I joke that she’s powering up, her systems are coming online.  It won’t be long until she is fully operational!)

I guess the biggest surprise for me is how much easier it is that people say.  Is it the current political situation that has us all programmed to bang on about how bad everything is?  It feels like all I see online is how DIFFICULT parenting is.  How much wine you need, just to survive the day.  I think I just saw a Charlize Theron movie advertised this week that is about the horrors of motherhood.  I mean, if we all believed this, its amazing that any of us are here at all.  Why would people keep having kids if the best you can hope for is to survive?

It just isn’t like that.  They can be so damned funny, and sweet.  They do something new every… single… day, and you light up, with surprise, with joy, with pride.

Thank you, Evangeline for making my life better and richer every day.   Buckle up.  She’s sentient now 😉


Trite But True

This isn’t where I thought I’d be

But then, I didn’t think….

Where would I have imagined myself?

Content? Or staring into the brink?

Or rollicking or partying?

Or serenely penning books?

Or happily bound in true love’s knots

Or working a kibbutz?

And what path would I choose for me

If I only had that power?

I don’t know, and that’s the crux of this;

This is not my darkest hour.

It’s not my lightest, not my brightest,

But not my worst by far.

It’s fine, and sometimes joyous,

But my soul aches for more.

For years, my job provided me

With the sustenance I sought.

The raison d’être, self-esteem,

No room for doubt or thought.

And there were parties every week,

Dancing, drinks, and drugs

A whirling carousel of life

Air kisses, sweaty hugs.

But life moves on, what served me then

Overserved me over time.

And now I seek something… else.

Something altruistic?  Some sign?

And yes, I am a mother.

(And that’s easy. I am blessed.)

She lights up my life in every way,

I don’t feel… “depressed”.

But something… there’s a longing

For what, I wish I knew.

Is it my mid-life crisis?

I guess my simple rhyme is through! 😊

Happy Birthday, Grace

Trevor was the first person I spoke to about Grace this morning. He called me to celebrate her birthday and tell me he was thinking about me.

Laura was here and asked me if she might read a Jewish prayer. I was touched, and grateful.

Below is the prayer:

“May God remember my daughter, Grace, who has gone to eternal rest.

Her life was but the briefest flicker of a flame, extinguished before it had time to shed its light on the world but not before sharing its warmth with me.

Through the months of her gestation, I prepared to nurture and to love her. For the time that she lived, I gave to her everything a parent could have given and received everything I could have expected.

May the memory of the joy she brought to me in the short time that we were together strengthen me, and may God count that joy as the weight of a life filled with such blessing, binding through that love and joy Nina and Trevor in the bonds of eternal life.

For the gift of her life without transgression, I pledge to do acts of righteousness and tzedakah [charity] that she may merit eternal life and that I may find comfort in this world.”

With this in mind, I’m going to rename my charitable foundation “The Grace Projects”.

Today had been tough. But I’m still here. I’m not running away. I’m being mindful.