Over the past two years Matt and I lost a lot—many people worldwide have suffered tragedy, so this isn't a surprise. As a snapshot: we lost our two canine children, two cars, a house…and my mom. Our furry friends were a blow to our hearts, we adjusted to the physical assets, but my mom still has me grasping for a way to frame the life I’ve known as Sarah.

I was a daughter first. Mom went through so much to bring me into this world (insert “almost died”). Dad was the first person to hold me in an unexpected home delivery with no medical support. My second day of life introduced my older sister and brother. Ahhh…so I’m a sibling, too…not to mention a granddaughter to those supportive adults who surrounded me for pictures and snuggles.
​
Through life I took on new roles and identities. A student, a friend, a laborer to earn money for education after high school. A girlfriend, a lover, a wife, and finally a mom to her own version of children — five beautiful dogs who had their own personalities during the short years that are allotted to them.

But my first role of daughter stuck in ways I never anticipated until Mom passed last November. I won’t belabor mother-daughter issues — you can read about my feelings of our relationship in this post I wrote five years ago. Mom was in a facility for seven years where she could live safely with Alzheimer’s disease. I truly thought her passing would not affect me other than a few tears and moving on.

It’s five months later. Mom’s memorial service will be held in two days and I’m spinning with grief. My mental concept of losing a closed loved one did NOT take emotions into consideration. My body has a completely different idea about this relationship.

The morning Mom transitioned I had an incredible bedside experience that I’ll share at a later time. My sister Cheryl called me at 7AM on November 15 to say, “This is the call.” I burst into tears even though I had expected this, was even grateful that Mom no longer suffered, passing less than one day after the last of her children said goodbye to her. But wow, it punched me.

For almost a week it felt like something important had been jerked out of the middle of my body. I’d like to say that I immediately thought of the umbilical cord my body shared with Mom for over nine months, but it took a little longer than that. Energy work and awareness of our energetic bodies has been a part of my life for over twenty-five years. But it never clicked that I had an unseen umbilical cord still attached to my mother.
​
As part of my grieving and healing, I fell into a new artistic hobby of painting kindness rocks. While Mom lived I never developed my drawing or painting skills because I had so many siblings who are incredibly talented in that area. I chose to focus on other skills. But I’ve chosen to learn a new art form with Mom at my side.

The rocks aren’t all that beautiful at first glance, but the love and mother-daughter connection put into each of these works of art are priceless to me. These rocks will be my memorial gift for everyone who attends Mom’s celebration of life. And knowing that only I can appreciate some of them, I have a place in my Mom Memorial Garden where they can find their forever home and the love a mother will give.

Matt and I treasure the years this incredible soul shared with us. You are missed already, sweet boy.

Aden's creative genius helped with reading, writing, AND gaming...

Thank you for the magic you brought into our lives.

High school biology changed my world when I learned about genetics. The science came easily to me, and I wondered how my classmates could have difficulty with the concepts.  Although I pursued a non-science career, I lived vicariously through my sister Lisa, who chose the genetics route and worked for a time at Yale, doing research and co-authoring academic papers. I visited one summer and got to meet the dominant male lab rat and see where the drosophila flies lived and bred for their keepers’ experiments. While my knowledge capped at A, C, G, T (the chemicals that make the nucleotide bases of our DNA), my mind spun fantasy worlds founded on genetic manipulation. Every story idea I’ve fleshed into a potential novel since 2011 contains elements of genetics and the exploration of what makes us who we are.

​Enter AncestryDNA and five sisters who think it’s cool to explore what binds us into the strange world of Webb. What makes us the weird, creative, and strong-willed women we’ve all grown into? Is it the heritage encoded in our blood? The way we were raised? As a CPA, I have no clue. As a fantasy writer, I’ve got plenty of potential answers that are fun to explore. 

​Just over a year ago we gathered to celebrate my niece Freya’s 21st birthday. As a gift, I decided to run a tabletop role-playing game based on the Pathfinder Dungeons and Dragons world. We dressed up as our characters and enjoyed an afternoon of magic and creative play. It’s an incredible memory (and picture) to have. It also highlights our tendency to be weird.

​Below are the results of our tests. I’ve been drawn to our Celtic heritage since my early twenties…the mystery and magic of druids…the nature myths that I want to believe are true…Avalon…swords, definitely swords. Is this because 23% of my genes are from that area of the world? Or is it because my family has played dress-up throughout my life? This picture is from our Scottish Mother’s Day in 1998, where we all chipped in and bought Mom a bagpipe, her heart’s desire that we could make a reality. And yes, we all dressed up and adopted a Scottish or Celtic persona. I even did a sword dance (alas, there’s no pictorial evidence). 

​What about your family? Have you ever wondered what makes you who you are? Do you have stories you’d like to share? I’d love to hear them.

An untitled track in my music library randomly played two mornings ago on my commute to work. These weird songs pre-date my embrace of mp3 players and phones that do everything except brush my teeth before bed. I’d thought my library had been cleared of these lost tracks, those tunes without an identity, no longer allowed to exist in my curated world.
​
Not to be. The universe pressed play on a dinosaur, and because my habit is to listen to all songs as though they have a personal message for me, I caught the riff in this one. It had an old rock soul, a throaty start to the chorus, and male vocals in the range I find sexy. The universe got my attention for those three minutes, and then I arrived at work and forgot about the pull to my threading heartbeat.

​This evening I woke to my house rumbling with thunder, a dog’s scared face pressed to mine, and a phone that told me my husband had just tried to call me. Groggy from my nap, I auto-dialed Matt and knew I had just missed him since he answered immediately. (Matt rarely takes phone calls, so I’m lucky when I reach him.) He started by saying lightning was crackling from the skies at his office, and my brain connected enough to let him know we were getting the thunder from it at our house. We’re sappy like that, linking our worlds together even though we’re apart. He then gently told me that he hadn’t, in fact, called me. Huh. I swear the never-wrong iPhone said otherwise. 

By that time, the sexy, throaty riff from earlier this week floated in my still-sleepy brain and distracted me from the mystery of my husband’s non-call. I remembered the unnamed cool song was either Track 09 or Track 06. A search told me Track 09 was definitely not what I was looking for. But 06 hit pay dirt. Like a long-lost lover coming to snuggle in bed, I realized what this tune brought to my unconscious mind—the male protagonist of the story I began creating last fall before my life fell apart. Back when I set a goal to write a novel in nine months, which would have completed just about now.
​
My baby came home and told me it’s time we start making his story come to life. His words feel so easy, so right. The winter blahs are behind me, and he needs my love and attention. Maybe now he’ll tell me his name and I can stop referring to him as “Protagonist B.”

Postscript:  After writing my thoughts above, I searched the lyrics and learned Track 06 is a Foo Fighters song from 2011. While I’m really glad it showed up in my iTunes library, I have no idea how I got it. But to be fair, it does not truly pre-date smart phones OR my digital library. Gonna say it must have come pirated from a friend…or the Universe really did plant it on my hard drive for me to find.