Inspired by Sarah

A Cruel Thief

A Cruel Thief

Any diagnosis of disease or illness is hard. I know that no one lives forever here on this Earth, but dementia in any of its forms is a cruel thief. The theft by Alzheimer’s is stealing memories from my Grandma. Not all at once. The robbery is slow and meticulous until Sarah cannot remember how to function doing the simplest of tasks that we all, of sound mind, take for granted. Horrible. I never expected the thief to target my Grandma. Her mind was always constantly engaged with tasks that she was even keeping straight and remembering for others like Tommy -...

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Making a Sale!

What is it about making a sale that is so exhilarating? Sure, the money is nice, but I’ve been reflecting on what it means to me. I believe there is some sense of belonging, acceptance, and being known. There is an incredible amount of gratitude that goes along with making a sale, too. My little known existence to the world, yet someone found my closet or my website and decided to trust me and make a purchase from me. As I go along on this venture, I do not want to lose sight of that. As I carefully package each...

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Letter to a Sixteen-Year-Old

Sixteen. New Car. (Well…new to me…it was a beat up, barely running Ford Probe). Know-It-All. I didn’t need anyone to tell me anything at 16, because I had finally arrived at the time in my life where I knew all the answers. While incredibly proud of me, I think my Grandma sensed a bit of stubborn (from her son, of course) and a bit of recklessness (she would end up coming to my aid many times as I tried to figure out how to be an adult). For at sixteen, my Grandma realized that more than ever what I needed...

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Inspired by Sarah: A Journey of Heartbreak & Hope

Inspired by Sarah: A Journey of Heartbreak & Hope

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a memory is worth a million.  Unbeknownst to any of her grandchildren, my grandmother collected dollar bills every time she came across one with a matching letter to a grandchild’s name. This Christmas, as this was being revealed, I looked through the stacks of dollar bills in awe of how many times Grandma thought of me. Nothing about this post is to brag about the amount of dollars my Grandma hoarded away. In fact, the monetary value is meaningless compared to fact that every time my Grandma held a dollar bill...

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