Power Grief and Doritos

On By HschichieIn Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief4 Comments

I’ve been off-line the last couple days……


I’ve been with my Garmisch sisters.

Pictures will be posted soon…..

And I have to say, if you have something you need to sort out in your life, if it be death, divorce, heartbreak, bankruptcy, in-grown toenails……go sit on a beach with your sisters.

Eat bags of Doritos and drink margaritas. To hell with yoga, aligning your chi, high cholesterol, counting calories…..throw it out the window, at least for the weekend.

Go sit on a beach, stare at the waves. Discuss important topics such as which sea bird would be the best to go drinking with?

The answer? A pelican (of course)

Howl, howl at the crazy moon. Go skinny dipping in that cold, cold Pacific at midnight…..moon that moon right back.

Curse God, love God, love your sisters, cry, hug, laugh until you think you might throw up….and then laugh some more.

Talk about your daughter, talk again and talk some more…..no one listens better than your sisters.

Sing Jimmy Buffet at the top of your lungs….top that off with Melissa Etheridge and the Steve Miller Band…..call it the Cougar Musical Trifecta.

Sit with a dog on your lap and a glass of wine in your hand.

Last but not least…..eat a corn dog and a funnel cake.

Get on that plane on Monday wondering why you’re so sore and wondering how you got those bruises on your leg. Sit on the plane laughing to yourself as you remember the weekend.

Sleep for two days.

No one said it would be easy but that’s power grief for you.

Thank you my Lovelies. Thank God for my Tribe.

Does it fit?

On By HschichieIn Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief3 Comments

A couple years ago, I threw out all my tiny, revealing underwear.


I realize this is too much information.

It wasn’t that it didn’t really fit, just that it no longer fit my lifestyle. I was no longer the tiny, sexy underwear girl. I was more the practical, cover my entire hiney Fruit of the Loom type of lady.

My life is like my underwear.

It isn’t about what fits…I can fit myself into many, many things given the proper modes of support. But if it rides up in certain areas, if it makes me all squirrley and uncomfortable, it’s not worth it….no matter how cute the pink lace is. My life now is about what’s comfortable, whats makes me feel good, what makes me feel covered and supported.

After Samantha, I worried if my relationships based on Samantha would still be comfortable; would they still make me feel covered and supported? Even if the basis for the relationship was no longer there? Would I be uncomfortable? Would I try to fit into something that was no longer me?

Here I am with the Supermoms, after Samantha. It fits, it still feels good, the coverage and support is fabulous.

I am so very relieved 🙂

These pictures were taken during a Canvas and Cocktails evening fundraiser for our little friend Cici (the sweet little girl in my arms). It was wonderful to fit right in again….being part of the Fruit of the Loom….I think I’m the banana.

A Very Sweet Swing…..

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It touches me to absolutely no end how many people are dedicated to the memory of our sweet girl.


She is constantly on my mind but I am her mom. She should be on my mind. What amazes me is that she is on the mind of so many others.

Do you remember Max? He was one of Samantha’s classmates and dedicated defender of her chair. Max’s mom, Rebecca and I have become good friends. On a July trip to Ikea, she offered to pick up a fabulous swing for Samantha for her birthday.

It is a wonderful swing……sadly, Lil’ Miss never got to use it.

So Rebecca thought it would be a good addition to Max and Samantha’s preschool.

Here is ‘Samantha’s Swing’ at the school…..

She made a button so the kids know who is swinging right there with them…

Carrie Martin preschool has dedicated the year to Samantha….

Rebecca makes these fabulous buttons and magnets and is quite talented; both her and daughter Caroline made this for Samantha’s birthday……

It’s a magnetic whiteboard that stands up on its own. She enclosed buttons with bright colors, animals and pictures of her friends. She thought it would be a good therapy/vision board for our girl.

Unfortunately we didn’t have a chance to meet up before Samantha’s birthday and she passed away just after. Rebecca thought I would like it anyway.

Like it? I love it. It would have been perfect, perfect for Samantha and it is good for my heart. I adore the buttons.

The other day she dropped off another very special button for us, it’s a magnet with Samantha’s signature picture….the one with her huge smile and crazy spiky hair…..just like the picture on the swing.

If love and thoughtfulness were something physical; a healing balm or potion, I feel like I could bathe in it.

Thank you for keeping her right there, right there in your hearts with us.

The Last Reading

On By HschichieIn Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief3 Comments

There is one last reading I wanted to share from Samantha’s service. I wanted to space them out a bit because I think they can be a tad overwhelming….it can be hard to hear the words of parents and grandparents.

This is my letter to Samantha……

Dear Samantha,

From the time that pregnancy test registered a faint, tiny positive sign, you have been a gift to me; a reminder after Jack that life goes on, a continuation of our growing family, a chance for your daddy and me to be parents.

The day you were born, your daddy was so proud, he looked like he could eat you up. I’ve never seen a smile so big….he was holding sunshine, he was holding gold.

Being your mother, no matter how hard things have been has been the best thing I have ever done in my life.

“Are you Mom?” Doctors would ask when you were very sick.

“Yes, I am Mom.”

I am Mom….I am Samantha’s Mom. See that cute little cherub? See that gummy smile that would melt your heart? That is my child.

You are my child. And you are such a gift.

I hope you can see all of the people here for you today; family, friends, teachers, doctors, nurses therapists. You have touched the lives of all of these people. Without ever saying a word, by just being the person you are.

You taught us all patience. You taught us the power of hard work and perseverance. You taught us how to read the little subtleties in life. You showed us that the very best thing in life is that infectious smile, the power of a good, healthy day and the lovely simplicity of cuddling with you on a summer evening, rubbing your Buddha tummy and listening to you breathe.

You have made me a better person. You brought together a village. In a world where value is based on intelligence, power, athletic prowess and speed, you made us all slow down, celebrate tiny accomplishments and rub your buttery, peanut feet.

I love you Samantha. I love you with a fierceness I have never felt; a power that tried to move mountains, stop time and keep you here for just a little while longer. You are my child. You are my gift.

You left this world so quickly on Sunday. I know now that your quick departure was another gift you gave your daddy and me because no matter how sick you became, I would have never let you go. I would have held on forever just to sit by your bed, hold your warm hand, smell your perfect skin and watch those long, lovely eyelashes flutter. It is selfish I know, but when you are given a gift as perfect as you, you will hold on for eternity.

Thank you for being my daughter, for making me so proud, for being such a sweet child, a little girl so easy to love. Thank you for giving me this precious time, four short years to look in awe at the strong, determined Lil’ Miss you are.

I will miss you forever and hold you close in the deepest, safest, warmest chamber of my heart.

All my love and even more,

Your Mommy.

She is in the Wind

On By HschichieIn Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief6 Comments

A couple weeks ago I went to Redfeather Lake with my friend Laura.


We took sleeping bags and laid out on the deck to watch the many, many stars. Our galaxy looks completely different outside of the city.

“Which star do you think she is?” I asked.

“She’s the bright one.” We laughed because every star out in Redfeather is bright.

We went hiking the next day and stared at the amazing panorama.

“She’s in the wind,” Laura said.

And just then, a little breeze blew through the trees. She was right there in the wind. We chuckled at the irony and told her we were happy to have her join us on our hike.

The wind is light, airy and travels the world.

We even found her in England

My cousin Lowrie sent this to me along with this note:

Our travels this past weekend took us to Beachy Head at the southeastern corner of England. It is part of the chalk cliffs along that part of the UK. We were 530 feet above the English Channel. Strong winds and beauty surrounded us. We seemed somehow nearer to Heaven and talked about Lance’s mom, my Dad, and sweet little Samantha!

There were little pieces of the rock making these incredible cliffs scattered on the ground. So, we gathered them and made a heart for Sam.

It is most certainly an awesome spot on this earth. . . . Huge cliffs yet very fragile and ever changing. Just like us, I guess!


I think Samantha would like England. I think she would like being on top of Stormy Peak in Redfeather. I think she would like traveling on the wind.

What would I do?

On By HschichieIn Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief7 Comments

The area northwest of Boulder, Four-Mile Canyon is on fire.


It has been since Monday.

Over 6,000 acres have burned. I have biked in that area. It is a stunning, beautiful part of Colorado.

It makes me sad that it is now gone.

Over 600 firefighters are trying to contain it. When the fire started on Monday, many local firefighters quickly joined in to battle the blaze….and some lost their own homes.

And I wonder, would I have had the strength to stay where I was and fight? Knowing that my home was gone, would I continue to fight?

“Of course you would,” A friend of mine said. “You would be so mad, you would want to make sure that fire was out and that no one else lost a home.”

“I’m not so sure,” I said. “I fought my own fire. I fought like hell for Samantha and the many causes that came with being her mom. Now that I no longer have my own little flame to fight for, I’m not sure if I can get back into the battle with the same exuberance.”

But in reading the many stories about the heroic people in Boulder, they got right back in, held lines and protected their neighbors’ homes knowing their own were gone.

God Bless ’em I say. Because I just don’t know if I can get back in the fight.



Kickin’ some a**

On By HschichieIn Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief8 Comments

Yeah, that’s right….that’s me…kickin‘ a little backside……totally.


When my parents got divorced, my dad mentioned that he would go to TWO aerobics classes a day and do everything in double time. I love my dad but sometimes he isn’t very coordinated. Single time might be a stretch….I can only imagine two hours a day of double-time aerobics in tube socks and bad 1980’s shorts.

But I get it.

Physical activity is one of the only things that makes me feel good….really good, like someday I might be somewhat whole good.

You would think I would do it more often.

But I don’t.

Go figure.

So today, I was contemplating attending a 5:30 class at they gym OR watching Seinfeld reruns and having a glass of wine.

Surprisingly, I found myself at the gym…..go me!

I went to a Body Combat class which combines kickboxing, karate and boxing. I laughed at the thought of this class. I have never gone; I’m not a fighter I’m a lover….but I needed a good cardio workout to clear my head.

Holy Schmoly. I was doing front kicks, side kicks, back kicks….the whole time I thought about kicking grief’s hiney…..take that you self-involved emotion, hiya!– you partner to depression, loneliness and isolation….that’s right, right in the kisser…..bastard.

I got so focused I almost started to cry which was problematic because kickboxing kicks your entire body and your can’t breathe. Crying and not breathing is a bad thing.

But wow I felt good. Like 007 secret agent good.

But don’t critique my punches. Despite giving Grief a good whooping with my kicks, I still punch like a girl. My girlie punches make me laugh they are so girlie.

The instructor came over to work on my arms.

“Focus on everything coming from your middle; from your center. All of your power is generated in your center,” She said as she tried to correct my oh-so-ladylike arms.

My center, my core, my power….Why yes, everything, everything is coming right from there.

I looked at my focused reflection in the mirror; her determination, her sadness, her eyes glossy from tears and sweat and I gave my grief a stellar left hook.

Bob the Spider……

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When we lost Jack, I refused to kill anything; spiders, ants, moths, bugs, creepy crawlies….I would kindly escort them out of the house and into the garden.


In my grieving mama mind, life is precious in any form.

That summer of Jack I even befriended a spider underneath our front porch light and let him run rampant. The spider grew so big we would go out and admire him at night in his ginormous spider feeding frenzy. I named him Bob and refused anyone to touch him.

I don’t even like spiders.

But I let Bob the Spider live under our light. Hubbie went along with this until Bob grew so big he started to leave spider poo all over the porch. In case you don’t know, spider poo is nasty, sticky and stains a rust-colored front porch.

I never saw Bob after that summer. I think an early frost took Bob to spider heaven. I was content that he lived a good, long, life on our porch.

Since we lost Samantha, I have followed the same no-kill mantra….kind of. I did kill a spider roaming around in my bike shorts. I’m sorry, but if you’re a spider, that’s strike one. Strike two is that you’re randy enough to take residence in my biking shammy which is close to my biking hiney…no way. Sorry spider.

This weekend I found a wasp in our driveway. I don’t like wasps, I think they chase away the bees AND I think they have a secret residence somewhere in the insulation of our house. The recent chill was hard on our particular driveway visitor and he wasn’t doing well. I was about to put said wasp out of his misery when I got a thought that stopped me…..

I looked at my hubbie….

“Samantha wouldn’t ever decided to be a wasp, would she?”

Hubbie gafawed “That precious little thing? A wasp? Never….never, ever, ever.”

So I squished the wasp. Sorry PETA people but trust me; I have escorted several moths, toads, earwigs and grasshoppers out of our house in the last month.

Call me a monster.

But it’s not about the spider or the wasp or my crazy obsession with saving everything. It’s that hubbie and I have a constant dialog about our daughter….even if it’s over the fate of an insect…it’s that we keep on talking….and keep her fresh in our minds.

That is so very comforting to me. We keep on talking. We keep on remembering. Heck, it’s even more comforting than Bob the Spider.

Sorry Bob.

Insolent Mouse

On By HschichieIn Nitty Gritty Dirty Grief4 Comments

I was toodling around town the other day and pulled behind a big truck. A great, big Mickey Mouse was displayed on the rear window.


Mickey was smiling at me; one hand on his swingy little hip. He was smiling his great, big Mickey smile…..

And he was flipping me the bird.

Really? I thought. Really, really? In what world is it okay to display a Mickey Mouse, an icon of our childhood, the innocence of our youth…in what world is it okay to have Mickey flipping me the bird???

And Mickey seemed to be right in front of me no matter where I went. I would swerve left, he went left…right, he went right…I sped up. I slowed down…it didn’t matter stupid, insolent, middle-finger Mickey was always right ahead of me.

Why does this bother me so much? And I thought about it. It shouldn’t really bother me. The owner of Mickey obviously had an agenda and I was playing right into it.

But in the last month I have been covered in love, kisses, chocolate, wine, prayers, readings, books, candles and more love….love, love, love. I had come to feel good, wonderful, hopeful, about our world and the people in it.

I wasn’t prepared for finger Mickey. In my snuggly shroud of unconditional support, I forgot how some people move through the world….sometimes it isn’t very nice or respectful.

So went home, took a nap, collected the mail and read letters from you all. And I felt kind of bad for the insolent-Mickey owner.

I’ll bet he doesn’t have a snuggly of unconditional love.

But I only felt kind of bad.