I started writing three and half years ago never dreaming it would consume my life.
My brother passed away in March of 2013, and in September of that same year, my mother passed.
We have always been a close family, and their loss devastated my sisters, my nephew, and me. I quickly
sunk into a deep hole of depression.
Then one night I sat at the dining room table then cried until my tears dried up and my body shook. I
was barely strong enough to crawl into bed. I prayed sleep would claim me. My dreams carried me to an
unexpected world of fantasy, an escape from facing my emptiness.
I awoke in the middle of the night and not wanting to let go of that world; I began to write. I wrote for
six hours straight. It was the beginning of the Willow Trilogy. Being able to redirect my sorrow into
something positive helped me get through that difficult time.
Was I led there by some unknown energy? I don’t know, but I do remember my mother strong believe
in me that I could overcome any obstacle. Not sure my writing is was what she meant, but it was my way
of dealing with my loss.
It’s May of 2017. In a few days, it will be Mother’s Day, and on the 20th it would have been my
mother’s 91st birthday. I wonder what she’d say if she knew that I had written 17 books since then and
working on my 18th and 19th? I want to believe she would be proud.
I cherish the amazing years I had with this incredible woman. My siblings and I are blessed to know she
loved each one of us with all her heart, never showing favoritism.
I keep my mother close to my heart in everything I do.
Please take the time to treasure your parents, for we have them for such a short time.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.