In the face of unspeakable tragedy like the school shootings at Uvalde, many of us are wondering how we can explain this to our children.
In honor of Black History Month, I want to share more love and light with you from our collective work and our mission.
For years after my father died my mom carried on at the holidays as if nothing had changed. Her intentions were good — to keep things the same and not bring any sadness into the room. But things weren’t the same, there was a person missing. My dad. The person who sawed off the bottom of the tree to fit into the tree stand. And who wired the tree with lights and watched as we all decorated it with the familiar ornaments and sipped hot chocolate. Except now I was the one trying to saw off the bottom of the tree and get the lights on just so the way my mom liked. His missing presence lodged itself like a lump in my throat and sometimes it was all I could do not to cry. Not to cry.
Recently I asked a friend how he dealt with the death of his mother right before he went away to college. Without skipping a beat, he said, “I learned how to live in the “AND”. I am sure I looked confused, so he explained, “I was really sad about my dad AND I wanted to enjoy college, so I continued to missed my dad AND I had fun.”
Imagine Clinical Training Director, Connie Palmer, LCSW shares a reflection on the 20th anniversary of 9/11
Imagine Clinical Training Director, Connie Palmer, LCSW shares a reflection on the 20th anniversary of 9/11
Imagine Clinical Training Director, Connie Palmer, LCSW shares a reflection on Memorial Day 2021
Sally Glick runs for Bonita, her sister and playmate, who lost her battle to Leukemia.
Amy McKenna runs for her husband who was happiest when spending time with his big Irish family, friends, and rare wins by his NY Jets.
Caroline Sullivan runs for her father and how he shines through her brothers and sister, each of them displaying different qualities of his.
