Broken Hearts

Our hearts are breaking tonight after hearing the news that beautiful Madey Slaughter has passed on after her valiant battle against cancer. 

When we heard the news we were actually in the process of working with Jennifer at The Vintage Pearl to order keepsakes for each member of the Slaughter family. With tears streaming down our faces, we completed the order for necklaces, bracelets and other items with the assurance from Jennifer that at least one of the necklaces would ship tomorrow so the family could still give it to Madey if they choose to do so.

I am so impressed with the generous friends of Hillary and Madey Slaughter who all donated for this cause, and I am humbled and grateful for the angels at The Vintage Pearl who generously donated the rest so that we can offer this family gifts of remembrance in this great time of sorrow.

Please keep the Slaughter family in your thoughts and prayers.

Dear Cancer, I Truly Despise You

January brought me one of the brightest lights of my life.  On January 10th, seventeen years ago, my beautiful Emily Nicole was born.  I am holding on tight to those feelings of joy and accomplishment, even as a family who is dear to us is preparing for their final Earthly goodbye to their beloved daughter, only one year younger than my Emily. I wish I could find a way to reconcile these feelings in my heart.

Ache doesn't come close. Agony seems so paltry. Where is the fairness in this???

I am calling on all of you in the blogger-verse to please keep this family in your thoughts and prayers. And every other second of every day... keep your family close.  NEVER miss an opportunity to show your love and affection. Kiss them, love them, tell them goodnight... None of us know how long this Earthly journey will last so make the most of every single breath. 

Madeline Slaughter's story

The Roots Run Deep

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There are just no words to describe what we are feeling, what we have been through, what we have lost. I am so proud to be their granddaughter, mother of five of their great-granddaughters. Yet nothing can change the fact that every day without them hurts.
Sunday we gathered for a family memorial service. This time I did not hesitate. I went right over to him and put my hand gently on top of his. I struggled against the tears and the choked back sobs, consciously avoiding letting my tears stain his perfect suit.

He looked restful, finally at peace. His gentle hands rested on top of the towel that was placed there so lovingly. I noticed the toothpick in his suit pocket and smiled to myself as countless memories washed over me. I easily recalled images of him smiling, with a toothpick in his mouth, at one of our many summer cookouts, sitting at the kitchen table laughing, or walking amongst his roses. He was never without a toothpick to clutch in his teeth or twirl around in his fingers.

And there was the pin.

I had never seen it before, and that glossy red pin might as well have been pinned to my heart. A symbol of his life in the railroad industry, I held my breath at the sight of it pinned to his lapel. My broken heart swelled with pride. How I love that man!

As a family we stood together and cried, paid our last respects, and occasionally we laughed as we shared memories and worked hard to hold each other up. We know he is happy, but we mourn our loss nonetheless.

Monday dawned gray, cloudy (Just like another day in August) and cold. We commented on how the snow falling on that morning was like a gift to us, as the August rain had been not so long ago. As we approached the cemetery, it became difficult to breathe. There would be no happy ending for any of us that day.

I will always remember looking up and seeing tiny angels adorning the pine boughs above the graves. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds as we began to sing quiet, tearful tributes of "Home on the Range" and "I've Been Working on the Railroad."

How is it possible for a broken heart to break over and over again?
We crowded together, possibly for the last time, in my Grandparents' house that afternoon. There was an endless amount of love, heartbreaking tears, and even some much needed laughter. I'm certain Grandma and Grandpa would have approved. Well, except for the part about all of us exploring the forbidden basement.

I walked through the house with my husband and my girls, silently saying goodbye to the structure that housed so many wonderful childhood memories. I carefully photographed the house, the walls, the windows, anything that would help me to keep those memories alive forever.

It hurts to say goodbye.


The Robinson legacy is mighty and as his memorial program so eloquently pointed out,our roots run deep. I am so grateful for the rich heritage I have been given and for the love that this family exudes. Now it is time to carefully preserve their history by writing and retelling their stories so that we will always have them near.

I will nag if I have to.

Forever In Our Hearts

He asked who the person was that was standing in the corner, though no one could be seen. He said he had to go find her, his one true love. I know she was waiting for him. She prepared the way and he followed. It will be a joyous party, Grandpa, so many people have been waiting for you!
Though our hearts are broken and we selfishly wish we could keep you here with us, we find comfort knowing that you are now our Patriarch Guardian Angel. We mourn our loss while celebrating your triumph.
Give our love to Grandma, tell her how much we have missed her, and be happy together. I love you with all my heart... save me a spot.

The Spaces In Between

This week has been busy. Huge. Emotionally exhausting. But even though we have been tested beyond what we have experienced before, even though we are all scrambling to establish our own hectic, must-do schedules - there have been moments of reflection, peace, and sometimes a little sadness in between. Moments that remind us to take the time to appreciate our surroundings and the people we love.



Sunday we awoke to a world shrouded in gray, rain falling from clouds as heavy as our own hearts. How appropriate. Grandma would have loved it. There were many shared thoughts, stories and emotions as we prepared to gather as a family to say goodbye. We were hurting in ways we had not experienced before and we held each other up as the day went on.

Just before we left the house, I had the girls stop so I could take their picture. They posed for their mom in spite of how they felt, and even worked up smiles for the camera. Another moment in time, alone with my girls.



Saying goodbye is never easy...



To say our emotions were all over the map would be an understatement. Sunday and Monday we cried, hugged, laughed, loved, sobbed, ached, and gave thanks for the most beautiful and perfect woman any of us ever have -or ever will know.

And we said goodbye.... For the last time.



I didn't take pictures of Bill on either of those days, but I wish I would have. He is my strength, my rock. When I was breaking down, he stood beside me - comforting me and loving me. He never left my side. He was there for our girls and for my extended family as well...offering his love and support. He is truly an amazing man.

The girls missed their first day of school on Monday as we said goodbye to Grandma, and Bill also took the day off. None of us ever gave it a second thought. We were where we needed to be. My family. My love, strength and happiness.



My heart still hurts, and I know now that it always will. I knew as we drove away that I was leaving part of myself behind. We will never get over her passing, never forget her, and there will never be another like her. Our challenge now is to learn to live with the empty space in our lives where she used to be. We talk to her every day, surrounding ourselves with the things she would love... family, music, flowers.. and love.

"Clock's still ticking, life moves on.. the radio still plays a song.. I guess the world didn't stop, for my broken heart.."



The girls started school on Tuesday - Bill and I went back to work. I began the daunting task of trying to catch up one day before the kids returned to Venture. Every now and then, I had to close my office door so I could hide the tears that came over me suddenly. "Normal" had changed, and I was working to adjust.

My girls and school are like peas and carrots. (wink and a nod to Forrest Gump) They go together perfectly. I know that the girls enjoy school and I am happy that they are back in the routines that they love. Every year I look forward to watching them learn and grow. I may not follow them to school with a camera, but I watch carefully as they drive away, and I think of them as the school bus approaches. They grow up too quickly -My little women.



My days continue at a frantic pace, and the girls are getting busier each day as well. As my calendar fills up with various "To Do's" and as I fall asleep (usually sitting up) each night, I know that life goes on... it is the spaces in between that have changed forever.

The quiet moments at the end of the day are filled with gratitude for all life's blessings. Family, Home, Heritage, Love, Dreams, Music, Art, Laughter, and even Tears. For all of this and more, we are forever grateful and will never forget.

From the Heart

Last summer Bill and I didn't get to take the girls camping because I wasn't working and we were carefully, painstakingly watching every penny. It was a long, boring and sad summer for the kids but throughout it all, my girls were so self-sacrificing and kind to their stressed-out Mama Bear, so I promised the girls that we would go to Flaming Gorge this year to make up for it. We have been to the Gorge before and so we know that there is ONE PERFECT CAMPSITE THAT WE MUST HAVE.. all other campsites pale in comparison to our favorite site. This perfect campsite is difficult to reserve so I had book our trip back in February to guarantee that we could reserve it. Trust me when I say that the anticipation of that trip is what kept us from strangling each other throughout the long winter and wet spring. We were literally counting the days until our camping / boating trip to Flaming Gorge!

Then Grandma got sick and everything changed.

As Grandma's health continued to deteriorate, and every single moment became even more precious than the last, we became increasingly uncomfortable with leaving at all, let alone going on a "fun" camping trip. For me it was never about losing the money if we canceled our reservation. I could not bear the thought of losing my Grandma while we were out "having fun" and while my mom was back at home, her heart breaking every day. What I cared about was doing the right thing... the best thing... and no one could tell me what the right thing was. I agonized over the decision for weeks until finally, with two days left to decide, my mom talked us into going by assuring me that everything would be the same when we got back.

I had been visiting Grandma and Grandpa at least once a week, but prior to leaving for The Gorge I stopped by every day after work. I felt compelled to be there, to hold Grandma's hand and just be near her. She was always so cute, working hard to smile and laugh while I was there in spite of her own discomfort. I simply cannot express how beautiful her spirit is. Grandma was always concerned about how I was doing and she never failed to ask about the girls. As I held her hand, I remember marveling over how it felt smooth and cool as marble, yet velvety soft and perfectly delicate. Grandma's hands seemed so tiny and I suppose they always have been, but if you have ever heard her play the piano - you would immediately visualize her hands as strong and as powerful as her music. As I cradled Grandma's hand in my own, I studied the thin, gold band on her finger and committed the image to memory. I will never forget the beautiful music she played, the cute way she gripped her umbrella during a Boston storm, and the way she always folded her hands across her lap in the car. I know there are many pictures in existence that will show my grandma's hands, but the image of her hand in my own is the one I will forever cherish.


I told Carley recently that I now understand, with perfect clarity, the expression "choking back tears" because every time I left my grandma's house I struggled to breathe and literally felt like I was choking. In fact, if any one saw me driving home, I'm sure they must have stared in shock at the woman sobbing hysterically behind the wheel. I am a cryer - I always have been and I always will be. And let me further explain that when I am emotionally charged up, I don't cry silently.. oh no.. that would be too easy! Instead, when I cry there is this unfair chain of events that begins with an immediate changing of the color of my nose. What is that about? Even before my tear ducts think about warming up, my nose turns an alarming and unmistakable shade of red! A person with teary eyes can easily lie and claim allergies, but a RED NOSE? What lie could I possibly spin about that? "Uh yeah, I thought that the kids would be very impressed if I could imitate Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer for Christmas this year so I have been practicing. Would you like to play some Reindeer Games?" I somehow don't think anyone would buy it. Soon after the nose color change, the sniffles set in and are immediately followed by uncontrollable sobs that sound like I'm attempting to swallow a family of tree frogs. That about sums it up.. when I cry, I become the Red Nosed-Sniffling-Tree Frog Swallower! As you can imagine, this spectacle is very difficult to hide or control.

But for the first time in my life, I felt the overwhelming importance of holding back the tears because I didn't want to upset Grandma by openly bawling in front of her. During my last visit with Grandma, I was almost grateful that I was only allowed a short time with her because the pain in my chest was absolute agony. I struggled to control my emotions as I kept silently reminding myself to breathe. After sitting by Grandma's side and holding her velvety-cool hand, I stood and kissed her on the forehead. My parting words to her were, "Grandma, I love you so much." To which she replied, "I love you so much too. And please tell the girls how much I love each of them." Those are mighty powerful and wonderfully precious parting words, and on the way home I sobbed harder than I ever have in my life. Two days later, my mom and her siblings decided that they could no longer allow visitors because it was too painful and taxing for Grandma. I have to remind myself now to be at peace and hold those parting words, like a talisman, in my heart forever.

I will write about our trip The Gorge soon, for now I need to do my best to hide my Rudolph-Red nose and get back to work.

Life's About Changing..

This summer is unlike any summer my family has ever experienced. We go through the motions by going boating, barbecuing, and gardening. But throughout it all, there's a constant, heartbreaking pain that is sometimes achingly visible on our faces... we try to hold it in, and we support each other as much as we possibly can, but what comfort could ever be offered when we are facing the devastating loss of someone who means the world to each and every one of us?

There's a country song by Patty Loveless that is playing an endless loop in my head these days... "How Can I Help You to Say Goodbye?" That song speaks of loss and living in spite of the pain and although the words cannot offer comfort, they offer something else.. the knowledge that through this loss, we are not alone. The pain may be unbearable now, but someday it will be something else.. something not as harsh to face.

I wish there was something I could do or say to help my mom cope with the impending loss of her own mother... but there are no words. When she cries, I can only cry with her and tell her how precious this time is. Not everyone gets the chance to say goodbye.. the challenge is being brave enough to take the opportunity to do so. I know my mom's heart is breaking into a million tiny pieces with each passing day and I would give anything to be able to ease her pain. When Mom cries,it is only after holding it in for so long that it simply overwhelms her. I am sure she is sheltering me from the worst pain.. the way she has always done.

Admittedly, I am not good when it comes to goodbyes. I was so afraid to see my grandmother the way she is now. I was terrified that I would start to cry and not be able to stop.. something that I did not want to taint her remaining time with and I was worried that seeing her frail like this would be the only way I would ever remember her. I cannot imagine how difficult it is for Grandma to see everyone she loves in constant tears as they come to visit her. How brave she must be!

I took all six girls with me for a visit to Grandma's house, something I knew we had to do in spite of my fears. I did not want to say goodbye.. It is almost as if I was delaying the visit in hopes of keeping her alive longer simply because I was refusing to say goodbye. It was the hardest day of my life.
As we sat there, surrounded by so much peace and loving family members, I could only be grateful for the wonderful legacy my grandparents worked so hard to establish. Grandma Robinson is loved by everyone, and searching my memory, I can honestly say that I have never heard her yell, nor have I witnessed an unkind act toward anyone. We spent hours in happy conversation.. laughing, loving and aching for more time. My grandmother is a graceful soul that is rare and beautiful. Her music will long be remembered and her memory forever cherished. I am so grateful that I had the chance to show her how much we love her. I hope she will carry that with her forever, as I am sure we will forever carry her memory with us.

Sitting with Mama alone in her bedroom
She opened her eyes, and then squeezed my hand
She said, I have to go now, my time here is over
And with her final words, she tried to help me understand
Mama whispered softly, Time will ease your pain
Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same

And she said, How can I help you to say goodbye?
It's OK to hurt, and it's OK to cry
Come, let me hold you and I will try
How can I help you to say goodbye?