A sea of mortarboard caps . . . seniors with tear-soaked tissues . . . parents dabbing at moist eyes.  Pomp.  Circumstance.  Ah . . . graduation.When I graduated from high school, I was overcome by the end of life as I knew it.  It was not only the end of school but also the end of my residence in Texas and the end of living with my parents.  When I graduated from college, I was likewise cognizant of the ‘death’ of everything familiar. (more…)

She walked to the front of the room and slid a daisy into the vase.  Speaking softly, almost as if to the flower, she murmured, “For my dear mother who passed away two months ago.”  I was on the second row, about to sing with a small group at this hospice memorial service.  The poignant flower ritual was designed to honor and remember the deceased. (more…)

Would you believe that exactly 230 years ago, my great-great-great-great grandmother traveled from East Tennessee along the Cumberland River to help establish Nashville?  For 6 months, she endured harsh conditions, wild adventures, and Indian attacks.  My mother brought this odyssey to life in her novel Perilous Journey.

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Just a few years ago, mother’s day for me meant breakfast in bed, big sloppy kisses, and hand-made cards proclaiming “I love you mommy.”  Now, with a house full of teenagers, I might get a meal with them and maybe, if I’m lucky, a mumbled “happy mother’s day.” (more…)