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I suppose I have no one to blame. I took a few important steps the past six months that outwardly have me on a much better path. I bought a gym. I started a contract job as a part-time Strength & Conditioning Coach for a university here in Philadelphia. Shit, I actually showed up for
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Grief leads a lot of places, and you don’t want to go to most of them. I’ve written blog posts about how my daughter’s death led me on a Roller Coaster and Down in a Hole. I think it will probably always lead me to these dark places. Rather than fight to not go there, I’ve decided to
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Today marks the four-year anniversary of Roo’s death. To me, anniversaries are occasions to celebrate, so maybe that’s the wrong term. Her life is a celebration of innocence and exuberance, but there’s nothing to celebrate about the grim details of her final days. I was going to let the day pass without writing anything. I
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Oftentimes, turmoil in one area of our lives can lead to upheaval in other areas as well. Why is that? Is it simply that bad luck really does come in threes? Probably not. I’m guessing the snowball effect of bad luck, at least in the case of child loss, can be traced to our mental
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Fuck EVERYTHING! Fuck birthdays. Fuck flowers. Fuck smiles. Do you even read this shit??? Do not make me talk about Christmas and sunshine anymore!!! Ah, fuck them too, just in case there was any remaining ambiguity about my real feelings. Fuck ponies and puppies. And fuck hugs. Glad I didn’t forget stupid hugs. Okay, got
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How are you? Goddammit, that innocuous little question somehow irritates the hell out of me, especially this time of year. How am I? I’m fine, motherfucker. Worry about yourself. Something else that irritates the shit out of me… sunshine. I fucking hate the sun. Ironic that I live in Hawaii, isn’t it? But seriously, I
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You might think you understand. Don’t be foolish. You don’t. I don’t care who died – spouse, parents, best friend, dog, whatever. Unless your kid died, you don’t fucking get it. Sure, maybe you can sympathize. All lives have their share of suffering, and that’s relatable. But the depth of the loss of a child is unmatched by any other loss.
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Don’t get your panties in a twist over the title. I’m not saying “fuck you” personally. I’m talkin’ ’bout the gubment. And it’s a catchy song lyric. I don’t like to admit this, but pack mentality goes both ways. My problem with conservative political thought is that it often tries to police how I behave and
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I ran across a post that made me think. A guy named Robert Miller shared it on his Facebook page. I don’t really know Rob, but we’re “friends.” Typical, right? Ugh, I won’t go down that path. I have other points to harp on today. I did meet him at a Marty Gallagher seminar at
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Three years will have passed on May 18th — half the span of her short life — and the heartbreak of losing Roo has not lessened. I wouldn’t want it to, so this is in some ways a self-fulfilling observation. But I’m not really buying that. Purposefully wallowing doesn’t have anything to do with my
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Chuck Miller 