Friends

It is funny to me, and maybe it is just me, but when I see the people that mean so much to me it is hard to say what I want to. The time isn’t right. The company. The occasion. To tell them how much they mean to me,

Beauty and Grief

She found him here before. On the street. Beneath an overpass. Sitting against a column. Face hardened. Cracked. Like the concrete around him. He seemed lifeless, blending in with hardened environment around him. He would look at her, at least she thought he did, but with soulless eyes that gave

The Word Became Flesh

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. All things were created through him, and apart from him not one thing was created that has been created. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. That light

Grief and Fear

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is

Milestones

I have been noting certain milestones since my Dad passed. One month. Two months. Other milestones or notable events have transpired or are coming. Christmas. Birthdays. My Dad's birthday. My Mom's. Their anniversary. Today is my oldest son Henry's birthday (March 9). My parents

Awake My Soul

I glanced out the window this morning and saw what I thought was fog. I figured there was no reason to head out for the sunrise. My wife got back from her run and said I better get out there cause the sun was rising (she also needed cream for

Better is a Handful of Quietness

I have been meditating on Ecclesiastes 4:6 "Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind." As a child I remember playfully wearing myself out, chasing after the wind. Trying to grab it, contain it. Yet, it cannot be

Grief's Course

Navigating grief is not a linear course. Sometimes grief crushes like a breaker. Sometimes it nudges like a gentle swell. Sometimes my days run straight and swift. Sometimes they are erratic and frenzied. Sometimes memories are like the warm sun, putting a smile on my face. Sometimes memories break me,

Words

Sometimes the sun rises and darkness rests heavily on the soul. Words require from us a kind of empathy and imagination and even then, the true meaning of words falls short until we experience their meaning in our lives. Love means little if you haven’t experienced loving parents, siblings,

Jesus Wept

The sun is peeking through the clouds this morning like a child might peek through the lattice of a neighbors back yard. What does it see? Can the sun see the glories and hardships of humanity? I think on that some as I soak up the relative warmth (30°) that

Be Still

I’m drawn to the peace and stillness of the mountains. From here I can see the two highest peaks of Virginia, their normal lines disfigured by clouds. Were I up there I know it would be much colder and harsh. And yet, I’m surrounded by the frenzied activity

I Love You

Its been over a month now. The pain is still there, it shifts and changes. I don’t remember how I left my dad on the last day I saw him, but it was so engrained in me that I know that my last words were “I love you.” along

Dark Winds

I was listening to a cover of a song called "Girl from the North Country" by Bob Dylan. The cover was by Mendeleyev. Lyrically it doesn’t fit my story. But some songs fit on a deeper level. The music settles in all the way to your bones

Take My Hand

My family is giving me bemused looks when I show them another sunrise or sunset photo. Probably wondering if I’m OK. I have of course been pondering this obsession while I wait for the winter sun to scale the opposite side of the hills and finally to blind me

A Memorial

One hard part about losing someone integral is how the world understands up to a point but it moves on before you are ready. Even I am compelled to move on to a degree. I have a family to care for. A job. I cannot retreat into solitude. The weight

The Son Rises

When I arrived in Charleston, South Carolina, December 22, 2025, the sun was setting on a day that I will now remember as the day I lost my Dad. Waking up the next day and driving back to my parents house I was reminded of conversations with friends last week,

Life Under the Fading Sun

Originally posted on Instagram December 18, 2025. My Dad passed away on December 22, 2025. My Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer that had metastasized to his bones back in August of 2025. My sisters and I, and many others were taking turns spending time with my parents and trying