“I am not yet old enough to like the past better than the present, although there are nights when I have a passing sadness for the unnecessary pains, the self-made foolishness that was, is and will be.

I do regret that I have spent too much of my life trying to find what I called “truth”, trying to find what I called “sense”. I never knew what I ment by truth, never made sense I hoped for.

All I mean is that I left too much of me unfinished because I wasted too much time. However”

[Lillian Hellman – An Unfinished Woman]

The one thing everybody knows about me, is that my mother passed away when I was two years old.

Many have witnessed the twists and turns my life took on account of this tragic incident and how it has broken me and rebuilt me into the woman I am slowly getting to know today.

Fewer still have gotten a glimpse into what it really means to be a motherless daughter.

As I am now fast approaching the age my mother was when she died and struggling with my place in life, I am sharing this journey with the world in hopes of finding kindred souls that can relate – other motherless daughters.

46 thoughts on “About

  1. Thank you so much for sharing your experience as a motherless daughter. I am so excited to follow your blog. It’s not good to be alone with this sort of thing, this sort of life. I remember when I got pregnant with my daughter, I was 30, and wow, it sort of sent me reeling. What a journey it has been, the girl is 15 now. I have grown so much in having her, reading your blog post about your fear about having a child makes me want to be your friend, because I will admit, it brought back all the motherless stuff I had felt so strongly as a girl. But having her also offered me the first taste of something I had never really experienced. It brought me to life in a way I didn’t know was possible, and guess what, all that life was incredible, but it was also where the pain lived. I started seeing a therapist when she was 3 yo, not because I felt bad, but because suddenly I had strength enough to start facing my past.

    • Patricemj – I can not thank you enough for your sweet and heart felt comment. I am literally at a loss of words – I had questioned the continuation of blogging as it seemed to bring more hurt in writing than the good in finding someone out there who can relate – Therefore I had taken some time off this to – I guess you would call it “refocuse” – Thank you so much for taking the time to comment and more over for sharing some of your own personal experience with me – this was the reason I started. It is great reading about you and your own family and I would love for us to continue to communicate and maybe you could share some of your experiences with me? I would love to hear your story. πŸ™‚ I will make sure to check your blog out on my way out – thanks again Many blessings to you and your family kianys

  2. I found your blog via PatriceMJ, and she was right to nominate you.
    Your writing is phenomenal, your thoughts preciously genuine, and your experiences authentic. Your pain palpable.
    Please keep writing. I know it’s awkward for me to ‘butt in’ and say in some fashion that I can relate to what you are saying, because I am *guy*… I rather enjoyed that post btw. … But I am able to relate in some way, as I’ve never known my father, I’m now a father without example, nor with appropriate role models for how to be – *and* even though my mother left when I was 16, she checked out much earlier.

    There’s so much loss and grief, and abandonment in this hole of becoming -“that which you don’t know”- passing the dates where it all ended for someone who was supposed to be your …shepherd in the universe, the womb that was supposed to cradle your heart… but mostly it’s the silence that is pervasive. You break this silence for me…
    My experiences aren’t yours, but all my life I’ve found myself imbued by motherless daughters. The most impact-ful women in my life, have been them, and I don’t know why… Your words on these electronic pages, have meaning to me. so, Kianys, Thank you.

    • Dear Erik,

      thank you so very much for taking the time to write – it means more to me than you will ever understand.

      Patrice has been and still is a wonderful guidance for me on my path (and somehow I feel I really should start writing again – I miss it and everybody I met through it!)

      I am not sure, if we all have to relate to everything everyone has experience – I think being able to relate to the underlying sentiment is the essential part.

      I feel for you and your loss – sometimes it might even be harder losing a mother while she is still there in body – my aunt experienced this with my grandmother to some extent.

      Also, I found your comment beyong touching and very inspirational and courageous – thank you again


  3. “My mother passed away when I was two years old.” I just read this crushing first line and it killed me. I can’t relate in the slightest so I have no place to even write this. The thought alone is jolting. I recall during the making of A League of Our Own that Madonna and Rosie O’Donnell became instant friends for life after their discovery that they both lost their mothers while they were young children. My close friend was adopted at age 1. She was raised by loving adoptive parents — but, having spent much of her infancy in an orphanage, she told me how as a young child she was almost obsessive in watching mothers and babies interacting and always wondering, is this what my mother would’ve done, etc. Today she is a birth doula and breastfeeding educator and she says she attributes her career path partially due to her passion for being around mothers and their babies, probably as a result of that gap in her first months.

    Sorry. Way too much for one tiny comment bar. Just many warm thoughts to you, here in the blogosphere and beyond.

    • Angie,
      Thank you so much for taking the time to coment – it really means a lot.

      I believe that “mother is dead” especially when voiced by a 6 year old is more frightening to most children than poltergeist, because it really hits home. Mom’s are not supposed to be fragile (or even mortal). They are supposed to be the securing frame for all those wonderfully messy childhood pictures.

      I can relate to your friend – I spent years trying to gather information on my mother – I really believe the “not knowing” is harder than the “not having”, although there isn’t really a “not hard” possibility in this one.

      What you say about the instant connection is true too (b.t.w. I loved, loved, loved that movie!). In a weird way it might compare to your latchkey kids story: It’s a tribe of it’s own.

      Thank you again for your sweet coment and the warmth and love sent through the blogosphere – You made me smile! πŸ™‚

  4. Kianys,

    I found you through Patrice’s post. I am grateful that I came to click on the link and read your blog. Your impartial honesty is not only heartwarming, it is inspiring.

    While I cannot claim to understand all that you must have gone through, and go through because of your life’s situation, I do understand how much and what it means to have 30 years of growing pains. It breaks my heart to know that you had to learn to bear them and heal without the one crucial figure we all agree makes it so much easier.

    A big hug to you.


    • Dear Priya,

      thank you so much for taking the time to comment – It really, really means a lot to me and I’m glad you liked what I’ve done with the place πŸ˜‰

      Not sure, if you really have to understand to “understand”, if you understand what I mean?!

      I have found, that a lot of people had to grow up to fast for whatever reason and are limping still due to unstreched muscles and ligaments.

      Thank you again, especially for the big hug – I am very partial those πŸ™‚

  5. Dear Kyanis,

    I was blogwalking and found your blogs is so heartwarming. I am 30 yo and always have my mom by my side, except those years when i was thousand miles away for studying. I sometimes desperately wanted to go back home and be with her. Hearing her voice and seeing her face via Skype was never enough. There i know how it feels to be temporarily partially being motherless though it’s not literally motherless. It was only the distance of the two continents that made us apart. And no, i don’t know exactly how it feels, facing your own growing pains without your mom… anyway, thank you for your really nice and thoughtfull posts πŸ™‚


    • Dear deary hoesin (is it hoesin? or deary? or both?)

      your comment was the first thing I saw when logged on this morning.
      I was actually in a quite grouchy mood, because it’s cold and grey and (as usual) way too early, but when I read your comment I went all mushy inside and thought “Awwwe, what a sweet thing to say! How lovely of her to tell me my posts are nice and thoughtful… .”
      So getting out of bed on this grey, cold, dreary morning does have it’s perks – thank you for that πŸ™‚

      No seriously, thank you sincerly for your thoughful words and taking the time to comment. – It really means a lot!

      I love that your close with your mom! I think that’s a very special – sadly not a lot of girls have that.

      You’ve actually touched on something, you know. Being motherless doesn’t necessarily mean that your mother is entierly absent in your life. A good friend of mine here (well actually she’s become a bit more than that, but that’s a different story) had her mom around her growing up. Except that her mother was mentally ill, thus not a mother in the true sense of the word.

      Obviously, this doesn’t compare to your story, but just to say, that missing your mom cames in all different sizes and shapes and weirdly the impact it has on young girls / women too

      I read somewhere, that a girl without a father lacks the rock and a girl without a mother lacks the heart. That, to me, sounds about right. Was that what it felt like to you? πŸ™‚

      In any case, I’m really glad you stopped by and took the time to comment – you’ve brightened my dreary morning – thank you for that πŸ™‚ Hope to see you around here a bit more… πŸ™‚

  6. Thanks for the comments and for following my blog. I appreciate it! πŸ™‚

    Your writing is so poignant, and honestly beautiful. I’m a guy, but maybe we have something in common, but at the same time not in common. Long story short, I lost my father when I was 12 shortly before Christmas time years ago. At that age, on the cusp of the teenage years, that’s when a father really becomes crucial in a soon-to-be young man’s life, and going through my teen years, I never had a father figure to look up to, but I did keep in mind and remember the things that my dad taught me during my 12 years that I got to know him, and I am surely thankful for that. I’d like to think I’ve done good for myself, but hey, that’s all subjective, and it’s said that we are our own worst critics when it comes to self evaluation!

    Looking forward to reading more of your blog!

    • Thank you πŸ™‚

      I really wanted to start with something more eloquent than “thank you” and kept staring at the screen for maybe 10 – 15 seconds (if you knew me, you’d know that that’s like 20 minutes in human time – well normal human time) πŸ˜‰

      I really ment it, when I said I enjoyed your blog and if I enjoy someone’s posts getting me to comment is easy (it’s getting me shut up, that’s the hard part) πŸ˜‰

      I’m sorry you lost your father when you were twelve – I immagine that’s rough. Since I lost my mom at two and hence have no memory of her, I always wondered, if it’s more comforting or more haunting to remember your parent, in your case your dad, when they are gone?… I’d think it would be comforting, but honestly I wouldn’t know (grass is always greener, right?!)

      Would you mind sharing how and why your father passed away? I understand that that’s a personal question, so please don’t feel obligated, if it makes you feel awkward. I’m just interested πŸ™‚

      I’m so glad, you found me here. It’s so special finding people who can relate (that was the reason I started this blog in the first place) πŸ™‚

      Thank you for complimenting me on my style b.t.w. – Not sure, I agree, but which girl can pass up a compliment, so I graciously accept πŸ™‚ However, if you really want to read beautiful writing, you should check out patrice’s blog @ http://patricemj.wordpress.com/ or Erik’s @ http://susserativeaspirations.wordpress.com/

      – I think you’d enjoy both of them πŸ™‚

      Well, CKS, I’m looking forward to seeing more of you too πŸ™‚ So far it’s off to a brilliant start I would say πŸ˜‰

      • Not a problem at all! You’re right about the comfort part. I appreciate the fact that I was able to know my dad for 12 years and to soak up a lot of ‘masculine’ wisdom, confidence and knowledge. I mean, in those 12 years, he taught me the values of hard work, never doubting yourself and being optimistic & humorous in the most extreme conditions (when he was dying and he knew it, he joked around with the nurses and his doctor… how did he do that in such extreme pain? I’ll never know).

        One day we were watching football, the next he was in the hospital and he passed away three days later from cirrhosis of the liver and renal failure. Yes, he often drank, but he was not an alcoholic per se. Here’s the thing, I didn’t know it until recently, actually, that anxiety practically runs in my family. I get anxious a lot, for many times no reason, and I look back at my dad’s life… he ran a successful business, but he was the catalyst, the head honcho, the leader, and whenever stress started to build, he drank. Poor decision? Sure, but he didn’t seem to think he was drinking that much, and maybe he wasn’t, but going by family history, on his side of the family, everybody had liver problems (his mom AND dad, two of his brothers and one of his uncles). Even though he had obvious vices, he was the best dad in the world to me. I just selfishly wish that he could have been around longer. I wonder how my life would be right now? Losing him forced me to be more mature at a young(er) age, to start taking more of a ‘man of the house’ presence. I did, and I hope I did it well.

        Things happen for reasons, and those reasons fuel why we grow, how we grow and shape the people we become as we age. Change is inevitable, somebody once told me. No matter how old we get, we keep growing and changing in maybe big ways or sometimes minuscule ways. We should keep learning, growing, acquiring knowledge and staying optimistic, right? What do we, as people, have to lose in doing that?

        Sorry about the late reply, by the way.

        • First of: Thank you for sharing this. I know it can be hurtful at times and it’s very personal, so I feel humbled that you would share this with me (us?).

          In all honesty I envy you that. The possibility to go back in time. To see him. To know what he looked him and how he smelled and what his laugh sounded like and did he snore or not. You know how he looked in the morning and in the afternoons, when he was happy, sad or just plain himself. – I am happy for you, you have those memories, I really am. I just wished I could attach something – anything – to my mother as well πŸ™‚

          When I read the story of how your dad passed away, I thought: “Wow! That must have been rough! Seeing him waste before your eyes. Denial, Pleading, Rage, Sadness.” and then I thought “How wonderful. You got to say goodbye and more importantly he got to say goodbye. He got to tell his son, that he loved him more than life itself and that he’s sorry for leaving and to always remember. Remember everything. With a happy heart.” – What a wonderful thought! I’m guessing reality differs a bit from both of my views, so once again I’m curious, no genuinely interested, to know which one applies to you. Or do they both apply depending on the day you are having? Or does neither of them apply?

          I’m not going to pass judgement on your father. Not because I was raised not to, but because in my eyes there is nothing to judge. My mother had a seizure (which led to her fatal accident) because she opted not to take her medication anymore without priorly consulting a doctor. We all make our own choices and sometimes when the choices are between a rock and a hard place, there is no “right one” to make.

          As for the anxiety (and possibly panic attacs?), Phil (the man in my life) struggles with those and is being treated for them (and yes it is a genetic thing). I am not going to tell you what to do, because I can’t presume to know you or your level of this. I just wanted to let you know, that I might be able to relate to some of what you are feeling from a different perspective. Not that of an insider, but rather that of an outsider looking in. πŸ™‚

          Yes, change is inevitable and you can’t live your life stuck to the rearview mirror. But I don’t think we can forward properly without looking back. I don’t know, you might disagree on this, but I have always felt this to be true. One should add, however, that I am nostalgic πŸ˜‰

          Lastly, I wanted to ask you, if you would like to talk about your experiences as a fatherless son publicly on this blog. I really think it’s interesting to see how much our experiences differ and still remain the same. If so, I would like to invite you to be the first guest-blogger on my blog. I enjoy your writing and please know that you can say anything you want in your post, if you would chose to do so. However, if for any reason, you don’t feel that’s something you would enjoy, I understand. Seriously. (Should you decide to take me up on my invitation please just email me)

          To me, talking to you is refreshing and insightful. – Thank you for that

          πŸ™‚ K.

  7. Thank you for reading, commenting and then following my blog. Honour seems almost overdone when telling people that I am honoured they find my words interesting. It may be better of me to say I am humbled. I love the fact that connections lead to connections lead to connections and it brought me to your blog and your story and I am glad it did. Although you be a daughter and I be a son, we have a common bond.

    • I’m glad you found your way back here πŸ™‚

      Hmmm not sure, if I would stick to the “humble”, I think you should trade that in for pride. We are all brought up believing we should be humble in praise and for some people that’s true, but I think it’s fine to be proud of abilities you have acquiered. I think it’s okay to say “I turned myself into an excellent writer”, because that’s what you did (nevermind that I won’t take my own advice, so I’m absolutely fine with you doing the same πŸ˜‰ )

      We have a common bond? Mother or Father? Do you mind sharing? I would love to know more, not just out of curiosity, but because I like to find common bonds – I understand this is very personal, so it’s fine, if you don’t want to share.

      Hope to see more of you here too. In any case I know we won’t lose sight of one another, because I’ll be spending a lot of time over at your place πŸ™‚

    • For a lack of an appropriate quote (or rather the motivation to go search the web for one), I’ll just quote myself:

      “You can never have enough awards or shoes”

      Thank you so much πŸ™‚ That’s awesome and I really appreciate it!

      πŸ™‚ K.

    • So sweet of you πŸ™‚ I sincerly appreciate the sentiment, especially considering the criteria on which you based the nominations.

      Give me a couple of days to come up with something πŸ™‚

      Thanks again and please excuse my long and winding thank you note on your post πŸ˜‰

  8. Pingback: A Spark In The Dark | Thirty Years Of Growing Pain(s)

  9. I read your story above. And you ask about others that can relate. My wife had an abusive father growing up. One night after a particularly bad evening her Mom grabbed took her and her sister by the hand in the middle of the night and left. She was about 8 years old. About 5 years later her Mom died. I get stories of her life after that but I know she hasn’t told me everything because at 40 it is till raw to her. Lots of kids may have taken an easier path but in this instance the ordeal made her stronger and is one of the smartest and morally correct people I know. Her motto she lives by is “Its not what happens to us in life but how we chose to react to us that determines our future.

    Congrats to you for coming out the other side a great person. Luv your blog!

    • Thank you so much for taking the time to listen to what I have to say and to share your wife’s story here – this really means a lot to me.

      Fortunately, my tale isn’t as raw and brutal as that which your wife had to endure – I feel for her. Truly.

      Although I do feel like an orphan at times, this has nothing to do with my father treating me badly (which he never has!). It’s more a question of him not being present at all (at least not mentally).

      I can’t even begin to understand what your wife had to go through and I salute her for being able to understand the vital lesson, that (as you rightly said) it’s not so much about where you come from, but more about where you chose to go. I really admire the strenght this takes and it humbles me.

      Please know, that your comment really means something to me. It matters.

      It’s been roughly 5 monthes now since I’ve started this blogging adventure (with a bit of a 3 week break inbetween) and I have heard more stories and found more people (or better they have found me!), than I would have ever thought possible.

      Although, obviously, I wouldn’t want to wish a fate like your wife’s on anybody, it is extremly encouraging to see other people (not just women) living and living happily.

      Please let her know, that the way she decided to deal with her wounds is very inspiering for me.

      Thank you – so much,

      K. πŸ™‚

  10. K. If you want inspiring, to bring you up to date, She took a new job in December for more money, with me being out of work. Peers at the employer she left plus the lady that hired her in her job before that each donated a few hundred dollars for our kid’s Christmas, because they like and respect her for ‘doing the right thing’. So be strong! You may be stronger than you realize already. Stay in touch!

    • Wow! That’s fantastic! I read your reply to my comment earlier and I have come to believe more and more that I met the people I met here for a reason (and maybe not just the people I come across here for that matter).

      I’d really like to stay in touch and thank you (sincerly) for going out of your way to make me feel good about myself – It’s really appreciated.

      That’s something I’m still learning to coop with: The kindness of strangers! πŸ™‚

    • Oh wow: Thank you πŸ™‚

      When I read this my first instinct was that you are a motherless daughter as well, but I searched your place and didn’t find a hint about that (or maybe it’s just too personal for you to share out here, which I would completely understand!). However it may be, I’m sorry, but I really have to ask, if you are one? Are you?

      I’m so blown away by you saying that stumbling across my blog has been a blessing for you, that I’m probably rambling a lot more than I usually do. If you stay around and get to know me a bit (which I really hope you’ll do!), you’ll realize that I do that a lot: rambling I mean. I don’t mean any harm by it though, it’s just the spluttering of my slightly warped mind.

      I loved that you had a “what I’m grateful for” page on your blog – I forget being grateful so often and it’s so important to remind yourself of that.

      I’ll stop now while I’m still ahead and haven’t scared you off for good yet (I haven’t, have I?)

      Thank you so much for stopping by, looking around and telling me my blog has been a blessing for you – it means so much to me – actually I could just say that your comment has been a blessing for me!

      πŸ™‚ K.

  11. you’re welcome. πŸ™‚

    yes, i am a motherless daughter.

    as i venture through your blog, i find that everything i feel – you have felt as well. it is as if someone shook up a champagne bottle and opened it (not in a bad way – as i know very well that pain and issues must be addressed, or they fester into something wicked). i just felt for the majority of my life (20 years to be exact – i’m 28, so i lost my mother when i was eight), my friends/family/acquaintances tiptoe around this subject and, respectively, tiptoe around me. and finally, for the first time in my life, everything i ever thought or felt is brought to light.

    i ramble too πŸ™‚ i like rambling. i do so more when i consume copious amounts of coffee. yea, i stumble, read, wonder, press a lot of buttons, click the mouse at warp speed, etc…. my curiosity exceeds that of my cat. and i’m ever-so-glad i did and found you and your writing.

    i grew up very privileged [[on the surface]] (aside from the fact that i lost my mother, but due to the same fact), but i believe there is a time for everything. and lately i’ve been feeling as if the people who called me a “spoiled rotten brat” are getting what they want – seeing me withdraw and struggle. but it’s not like i asked for the privilege. i would trade just about everything (if not everything completely) just to talk to my mother.

    i’m grateful to have met you – you are definitely a charm! i look forward to many conversations we’ll have and the many opportunities we’ll have to grow πŸ™‚


    • Yes, I mean I completely relate to that spoiled brat thing (I could link back to it, but I think you read the “Phantom Pains” post of mine already). I really feel so bubbly right now and have so many questions, but am way to tired. (I think I should mention that I live in Germany and depending on where in the States you live thats an 6-9h time difference) and I really want to do this fully caffeine-indosed awake πŸ˜‰

      What I did wanted to tell you however, is that you should check out Patrice’s blog (Life As Contraption – The Heartbreak Of Invention) – She’s on my blogroll and on my favorite blogger list on the top right corner of my blog (everybody on this short list is precious in their own right b.t.w.).

      The reason I singled out Patrice, is because she too is a motherless daughter (several frequent bloggers are “parentless” b.t.w. – not nearly all of them, but a few, I’ll let you figure that out for yourself though πŸ˜‰ ) and she’s lovely, deep, honest, approacheable and just an all around wonderful lady – I think you might benefit highly from getting to know her (same goes for all of my favs though – all in their own right).

      I really look forward to hearing more of your story (that is as long as you are willing to share – no pressure here just genuine interest!)


      • i’m super excited to have met you!!!

        yea – i’m reading patrice’s blog and i find much comfort in it as well. i am discovering others through your blog as well. i love reading your story and the stories of others and i feel like we are one giant support group.

        i was in the shower thinking about this and i realized that i don’t fault anyone for not understanding – and that’s what drives my personality to try to be as accommodating as possible. but it has never been a topic that was discussed thoroughly in my life and now i see it’s not a topic many discuss. until now.

        i am more than willing to share. i started this blog with the intention of sharing my story. but then i got shy. lol. πŸ™‚ it’s nice for once to be treated like a normal person – not like someone with the plague, which is how i feel a lot of the time when people wonder about my family history.

        hope to hear from you soon!!!

        • That’s exactly how this group feels to me to. Well actually it’s more than that. It feels like a circle of friends where each individual brings their own “stuff” to the table, but is equally willing to decipher other peoples. And then it’s just fun and games again.

          I think what gets me most, is the caring. All of them care so much. It’s overwhelming. At first I thought of it as the random kindness and genorisity of strangers, but now, that I (somehow) know them: They are friends.

          You should share your story! It’s good to get things in the open and its good to acknoledge all your feelings. It’s great that you don’t blame anyone, but it would be fine if you did that too.

          I think what I’ve learned most during this adventure is that everything is writeable about and that people listen. They really do. And somehow they connect. Maybe not with every word or every bit of your story, but there is something greater than that (like underlying emotions) that touch us and we respond to them.

          Please share more about your story on your blog. I (for one) would love to read it. πŸ˜€

  12. I enjoyed your blog and I’m following it b/c I too am a motherless daughter. My mother passed away when I was 2 months old. I just turned 42 a couple of days ago and I was thinking about my mother and wondering if she would be proud of the woman I’ve become. Thank you for sharing and I’ll be back to read more!

    • Oh Eva, thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment and let me know that you are “one of the tribe” as well – I’m a bit wiped out right now and probably won’t be posting a lot of deep stuff until march (well except for my daily post), but I really did want to reply and let you know how thrilled I am that you found me here. πŸ™‚

      It’s so valuable to hear other stories and different perspectives, but also to recognize yourself in others!

      Please do stick around, I would really love to hear more! More about you, about your mother (and why she passed away) more about your life as a motherless daughter – more about everything really… . πŸ˜€

      Well march is just around the corner and indead there will be time πŸ˜‰

    • Thank YOU for taking the time to read and comment (not just on my daily project, which right now is all I’m doing, but also on this “about”). I hate to repeat myself, but I really can’t say anything else than “It means a lot to me and I appreciate it grately.”. πŸ™‚

      I’m (obviously!) a bit older than 22, but I really have come to terms with no longer being a twenty-something: Although it WAS painful at first, I’m not going to lie πŸ˜‰

      May God bless you too and thank you again for your sweet comments.

      All the best, K.

  13. My two sweet young girls are just reaching that tender age of loss realisation and we talk about what it would be like to loose each other and how we would cope. I remember waking up as a child and rushing to my mom to check that she was still ok after a terrible nightmare about loosing her. So much emotion. I am so glad I stumbled across your blog. It look wonderful. Thanks.

    • Oh wow. I really am a bit at a loss of words, a bit blown away by your sweet comment.

      Thank YOU – this really (really, really, really!) means a lot to me.

      It’s been a while since I’ve posted something substantial, especially in regards to my mother or rather her absence in my life. I haven’t truly been “in the mood” (for lack of better words). Somehow between my project 365 (366) and “life” everything else just kind of got lost a long the way – thank you for reminding me of why I started this journey in the first place. Not sure, if I’ll be able to return to this just yet, but I believe a reminder is necessary once in a while to get you back on track. I know it was important for me.

      I’m so glad your two young daughters have you in their lives to guide them and love them. A mothers touch is so essential to the own development and well being.

      Thank you again for stoping by, reading and taking the time to leave such a sweet and personal message: It really means a lot to me.

      I hope to see you around here some more πŸ™‚ K.

  14. Hello there! This is long over due, but I’ve been meaning to stop by and say hi for a while. I’ve been kind of MIA from the blog world, but now that I’m back I really wanted to check out your blog and read some of your posts. It seems that you have such a sweet and positive view on life, and that is always so wonderful to see, and read. I really can’t imagine how difficult it must be having had grown up without a mother and all that it brings and how it affects a women, but it is really inspiring to see that you approach it with such delicacy, insight and wisdom here. Glad that Erik was able to point you in my direction and that I was able to wind up here! πŸ™‚

    • Awe Christina, I’m blushing: How sweet of you to stop by and leave such a warm comment. Thank you πŸ™‚

      I think life deals each of us a bad hand of sorts, the challenge is figuring out what your trump cards are πŸ˜‰

      I know how it is with life getting in the way of blogging, so don’t think twice about it. Just happy you ended up here in the end.

      Erik has always been (and probably will always be, but one should be careful with such predictions) invaluable for my experiences here. He’s such a wonderful person!

      Sorry, I really wanted to reply in a more eloquent manner to your sweet comment, but Phil (my b.f.) is watching soccer and I just woke up from falling asleep whilst watching Disneys Fantasia so my mind is still a bit out to lunch πŸ˜‰

      Can’t wait to hear more from you now that your back

      Thanks for stopping by,

      it really means a lot!

      πŸ˜€ K.

  15. I can identify somewhat, having lost my mother at 10, and lived with her illness from birth. What I can say is I strongly believe in reunions, the immortal spirit, and the mystery of infinity. Not just because I need to, but because nothing else makes sense when sense is such a strong inherent compass for who we are. We are here to grow. Your blog is aptly titled.

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