September 20, 2014

I’m perched on top of a flat boulder with my journal and pen. It’s an achingly beautiful day on top of Mount Lindo.  It’s very warm and the back of my neck could be burning in the sun.  Blue sky, but a teeny hint of fall in the air with some leaves changing.  I’m looking down on Denver.  Through drooping pine boughs I can see the city below, beyond the layer of haze that’s pinkish-grey.  Fire—I think I heard is burning in California.  Mike the groundskeeper just handed me an ice cold bottled water.  I’m as content as a girl writing her first blog at her son’s stone could be.

Over two years since losing Kade, I’m ready to get out my experiences, keep them collected in a special place—like a stack of weathered love letters tied with string—and share them with you.

Maybe you’re a bereaved parent. It helps to know we’re not alone.  I plan to go into great detail reviewing the grief books I read.  With so many to choose from, maybe why I found comfort in some vs. others could help you wade through the choices.  I’ll share links to the resources that were life savers for me.  Retreats, grief centers, conferences, websites, blogs, and books.  I’ll describe how they spoke to me… or why they didn’t.

Maybe you’re not a bereaved parent, but we’re related; maybe you miss Kade or want to know how I’m doing. Maybe we’re friends.  Were co-workers.  Maybe we briefly met, or know a friend of a friend.  Maybe we’ve never met and you stumbled upon my page hoping to find a great vintage shirt!  My stories and those of other parents you see here could give you insight into what our new normal is like.

I want to share my grief experiences with those who “sign up” for that sort of thing. Some of my Facebook posts are raw, and frankly… about death.  I’m not sure every former schoolmate I’ve friended wants to hear about my trips to visit Kade at the cemetery, or my latest griefburst.  Or maybe you do!  This way you can choose, and I can feel freer in my reflections.

Like a lot of bereaved parents I’ve met, I am hungry for any opportunity to get Kade’s name into the world. To remind the world that he lived and his life made a difference.  To carry on his legacy. He Wore Flannel can be my place to keep my tattered, tear-stained, soft-from-unfolding-and-refolding stack of love letters tied with a string.  Pictures, memories, life experiences, and more.  Welcome to He Wore Flannel.  I hope you’ll stop by and see us (Kade and me) often!