Writing clear, brief, and bold

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Where I need to be

Minutes before the start of my son’s soccer game, I cried. I gasped for breath when I read the news that Michael Patrick Lynch had died. Michael was the Irondequoit teen who was struck by a car while crossing the street on his way to school.

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15 lessons for 15 years

The following letter—15 lessons for 15 years—I wrote to my son on his 15th birthday, January 9, 2017. I left the letter on my son’s pillow. After he read it, he came to my room,  gave me a hug and said: “Thank you.” I felt like a large stone was caught in my throat and I struggled …

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I write like that

I write like that: in fits and stops. Bits of prose, poetry, and rhyme wind along the road to nowhere. There is no ending, yet. There is just a feeling I must put on paper. This feeling spills from my finger tips, into my notebook or on the screen. Captured.  I am crushing it. I …

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Living with grief

Grief brings you to your knees; shakes you to your core and rattles your senses. In a blink of an eye, or over time, the end of a life leaves painful scars on the living.

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