Flawless seashells tiny as fingernails,
prickly cockle and calico scallop
keyhole limpet and kitten’s paw,
we found while walking Florida beaches
the Christmas we shared a house
with our three kids and their friends.
Love Letters
Love Letters: Four goodbyes
My father died 25 years ago of an illness no one in our family knew existed. He was diagnosed a few weeks before his death as having frontal lobe atrophy with motor neuron disease, a 13-syllable death sentence that had ravaged his mind and body for several months. My mother, sister, brother and I watched his unremitting deterioration
Love Letters: An uninvited journey
Family road trips were usually eventful for my family and me when I was younger. If Dad knew where he was going, fine. However, if it was somewhere we had never been before, he would hand the map to Mom and ask her to navigate. Mom would pore over the map, her finger traveling down the line, never as fast as Dad would like.
Love Letters: Three women describe what it was like to lose a parent
These essays won first, second and third place in the Love Letters: What Matters Most contest, hosted by Honoring Your Wishes, a division of Iowa City Hospice. The contest asked writers to reflect on themes of love, forgiveness and gratitude.