The last time we had coffee together was November of last year. Six months ago. I haven’t written much since then, I have even thought about shutting down the blog. But we can chat about that over coffee. Lots of coffee. So this is what I have been:

Reading:” The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society” by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. The perfect book. I may read it again. I like reading my favorites over and over, there is something restorative about spending time with your favorite heroines. If you have not read Potato Peel Society, treat yourself, it is a delight. Thought provoking too.

Writing: I tap my fingers on the keys a lot. Then I delete. Tap, delete. Tap, delete, tap, delete.

Planning: The rehearsal dinner for our son and his radiant bride. I loved  every moment of curating the vintage china collection for dinner. Potted plants and fresh flowers were in abundance, throw in strings of fairy lights and it was beautiful. Maybe I will write about the rehearsal dinner. It was great fun to transform a space into something magical and inviting.

Celebrating: The wedding. It was perfect.

Fostering: A gorgeous King Shepherd named Maggie. She may be going to her forever home this Friday.

Trolling: Had my first experience with trolls and the blog. I did not respond to them. I blocked them. But it was an icky experience.

Book Launching: I am in a book. A real book with ink, pages, and a very cool cover. We are going to the book launch in Richmond, VA. Here’s the link:

Exhibiting: I have a piece featured at the Delaplaine Center for Arts in Frederick and I have an exhibit at the Expanding Heart Center, also in Frederick. Click on the highlighted text and you can visit the sites.

Overthinking: Everything.

Grieving: The best way I can describe it is that I have gone underground with my grief. I have lots of hidden burrows and tunnels. So tired of being graded on my grief, of being told to be effing happy by people who don’t know me or haven’t talked to me for years. I didn’t know the seventh year would feel so raw. But it makes sense in a way. Joy and light make the pain and sorrow all that more sharp. If I am to feel joy, then I cannot shut out the pain. It doesn’t work that way. If you are numb, you feel nothing. I excel at partitioning, but partitioning is a temporary state in order to function and accomplish a necessary task. Integration is the next step. It is a guts move to feel joy because the ferocious pain that comes with it is heavy. Joy is light, yet my shoulders still ache. The death of a child is relentless, chronic, and from time to time wins the skirmish. But one thing I have learned is that I am the determined bitchy sort and not easily routed.

That’s six months in a nut shell. I would love to hear about whats going with you.

Thanks for sitting with me,
Love, Terri







17 thoughts on “Way Overdue For Coffee

  1. I love you and your fierce and gorgeous honesty. You are an advocate to all those who are grieving, especially years into a loss. Damnit there is no expiration, only our own. Please keep tap tapping, you are so gifted with empathy and talent in many arenas. xo

    • Dana thank you so much! Your words give me courage to keep tapping. I was not prepared for this year, surprised by grief would be a fair statement. Thank you for the gift of your time and friendship. Much love to you and your house my friend.

  2. I love hearing from you, hope you never stop sharing your grief and your process. Thank you.

    • Melinda, thank you for your kind words, you touched my heart. Thank you for the gift of your listening ears and loving heart.

  3. Melinda, thank you for your kind words, you touched my heart. Thank you for the gift of your listening ears and loving heart.

  4. I appreciate all that you share (hopefully continue to share). I have related to many things that you have said. Through this grief journey I have really thought and re thought on things that you have shared through your journey. It’s been a little over 5 years since my son’s passing. I have related to the more direct ways that you describe experiences. When you choose strong words, I’m thankful. Strong direct words come when speaking truthful to our stretches of time or even existence after such a loss. As the Mother of a son, her oldest beloved child, I’ve been refreshed even as you speak of your journey. Would love to hear how the rehearsal dinner was turned into a magical place. Your initial description sounded amazing. 🙂 Very glad to hear the wedding of your youngest turned out perfect. I’m happy hearing this and congratulations for such a wondrous event occurring in your family.

    • Dear Dawn,
      Thank you so much for the gift of your words. I am sorry we are both on this journey of child loss, but I am grateful to be walking it with you. Thank you for your encouragement and company. There is no way to soft pedal the experience of child loss, thank you for the encouragement to keep writing truth. Wishing you some gentle moments today.

  5. Dear Terri, thank you for sharing so much with so many. I always learn from you; shed a tear or 2; a giggle or 2 and offer up a prayer or 2 for you and all you love. Thank you for the way overdue coffee! Hugs, Laura

    • Thank you Laura for always making time to sit and have coffee! Wishing you a beautiful day my friend.

  6. The only reason you should ever shut down the blog is to turn it into a book!!! 🙂

  7. Terri, I love “Guernsey;” so glad you do too. Let’s sit together over a real cup of coffee soon.

    • Dear Angie,
      Yes! You have been so much on my mind, I would love coffee!

  8. Dear Terri,
    I discovered your blog two or three years ago, and reading your posts has helped me so much. I’ve wanted to write you a number of times, am finally I am doing it. I feel some connection to your story as it was in 2010 that our beloved daughter was murdered at the age of 28, and I so resonate with your writings about the shock and horror of learning of your son’s death, and how he died. Your expression of the grief that we go through at the time of our child’s death, and the grieving during the months and years that follow is very similar to what I have experienced. I am also in the seventh year, and I am gratefully experiencing more and more joy , and while the grief doesn’t surface as often now, I know that it is always there within me.

    How wonderful it must have been to experience the joyfulness and beauty of your son and his beautiful bride’s wedding. I was most impressed reading your recent post about working on the perfect recipe for the wedding cake.

    I read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society a few years ago and loved it.

    Terri, I hope that you will continue with your blog, and my thanks to you for having shared your journey with us.

    • Dear Kate,
      Thank you for writing, thank you for sharing your daughter with me. I am so very sorry for your loss. Your words reached out to me and bolstered my courage, reminded me why I write. Reminded me that trolls don’t matter, comments from people who have not walked in our shoes don’t matter. Our children and their memory matter.

      Wasn’t Guernsey the best! I am ready to hunker down, brew tea, and read it again. Would love to know what else you have read, I still struggle with focusing on words sometimes, so any suggestions would be welcome.

      Thank you for walking with me and keeping me company.
      Love, Terri

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