August 11th, 2008 will mark the 7th year anniversary of my dad's passing.  The journey of grief has taken my family and I to many places, through the shadowy woods trying to tread towards the light and standing in the sunshine with God's warmth upon us.  June 2013 was the year that my mom and I left our home in Michigan to be with my brother in Louisiana, who was pursuing a career in the oil field.  We needed a fresh start, a new beginning, a start of a peaceful chapter.  Michigan held many rooftop stamps (my dad owned his own roofing business) and camping "memory days".  Sweet memories bloomed everywhere, amongst the country and in the suburbs.  God decided that He wanted us to move to Houma, Louisiana, Cajun country, to build a new life.  My dad was an original Southern man, born and raised in Central Louisiana, a little town called Beaver (nope, don't even look on a map, because you won't find it).  Even though, I left my home in Michig...

  It was a sunny, peaceful day in small town Marysville, Michigan till we got that heart-wrenching call, "Your husband's cancer has returned and it has spread."  My mom, with a calming hand, put a grocery item in the basket and turned to me, as if I was her salvation. "Brandy, your dad's cancer has come back."  Those dreadful words stung my heart.  Suddenly, the grocery store that my family and I were shopping in, began to darken with gloom.  "I felt like I was in a tunnel." my mom said, recalling that life-changing day.  The beast has come to ravage our family again.  It was time to “fight the good fight” one more time.   "Finding a way, where there is no way"   My dad, an Irish warrior, put on his armor of strength and faith.  He was ready to battle, he was ready to win, God-willing.  Even though, the Oncologist at the John D. Dingell VA Medical Center told my mom that chemotherapy and radiation woul...

    I once lived out in the country, beyond the babbling noise of car horns, banshee sirens, and life's marathons.  Those years were spent amongst the forest and foxes unseen.  Turkeys and bubbly bunnies were our woodland neighbors.  Milk cows jingled, jangled across the distant pasture.  Tawny deer sidled near the glistening pond, making neighbors with their shadows upon the ice.  God's peace nestled on the porch of our quaint "Ponderosa". My brother and I decided to go ice skating one December eve.  My dad, a bristly fellow, took up shovel and headed to our pond "beyond the wood".  He heaved and hoed, shoveling snow off the "present wrapped" ice.  Snow tipped oak branches where robins once perched.  Flurries floated, settling upon my hard-working dad.  My brother and I dressed as warm as puffy Eskimos.  We trudged and nudged through the white, pure land.  Hopping Jacque Cousteau (my dog), followed our ...