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January 1, 2026 I actually can’t believe I’m really up and moving around. I first woke up around 4 AM which was insane because I didn’t go to bed until 1:30 AM. Obviously not sufficient sleep for a normal person, so I’m guessing I’m not so normal. I actually thought twice about staying up but after getting out of bed at 4 AM I really didn’t feel bad at all, I jumped into the shower and was out into the kitchen by 4:30 AM pouring my 1st cup of coffee for the day, and appa

December 20. 2025 Morning Brew & Reflections It’s 5:47 AM and I’m standing here looking out into a dark, gray morning that already feels heavy. Last night I was exhausted, wiped out, the kind of tired where you’re sure sleep will come fast. But it didn’t. I tossed and turned for hours, staring at the clock in disbelief, and the hardest part wasn’t even the lack of sleep. It was the loneliness of it, lying in bed alone… and knowing I’d wake up alone. Fran, I think the appro

December 1, 2025 It’s currently 6:45 AM Monday, December 1 and as I peer out the patio door, passed the deck, I’m greeted by a wall of gray, a very large wall of gray. With no signs of the sun or the sunrise anywhere to be seen. The forecast for the week isn’t making any promises relative to anything I want to hear, with no possible signs of sunshine until perhaps, with emphasis on perhaps, mid week. Considering my current mood, that’s just totally unacceptable, but someth

November 16, 2025 Sunday, November 16 – A Soundtrack for the Sky (Morning Brew & Reflections) This morning’s coffee and toast came with a soundtrack that felt anything but random. One song after another lined up with my memories and my grief, forever, love, far-away places, one wish, a mother’s lullaby, giving you the best that I've got. My head can explain it as algorithms and playlists, but my heart heard something else entirely: a series of quiet messages stitched together

November 1, 2025 Saturday Morning Reflections — November 1 It’s currently 11:45 AM on this cool Saturday morning, the first day of November. The house has been alive with purpose since early dawn, the quiet hum of the oven, the scent of pastry, the rhythm of a wooden spoon stirring soup. It’s been a busy morning, but one filled with meaning. On the counter, trays of delicate lady locks rest in neat rows — golden, flaky, and brushed with a gentle shimmer of pumpkin pie spice

October 19, 2025 “Sunrise for Two” It’s Sunday morning, and the sky unfolds like a promise, lavender soft at the edges, a slow, golden awakening where night loosens its grip on the earth. I sit in the hush of early light, watching the sun bloom through layers of rose and ember, and I swear I can feel her beside me. Her quiet breath in the rhythm of dawn, her warmth in the tender flame of the horizon. We used to sit like this, side by side in stillness, letting the world turn

This space was created in memory of my beloved wife, Francine, who left this world on July 10, 2025, after a long and courageous journey through illness. She was my partner, my soulmate, and my greatest blessing in life. Here, I hope to do two things: Celebrate Francine’s life – her love, kindness, and devotion to her family. Share reflections on grief – the pain of loss, the meaning of love, and the path forward, however uncertain it feels. Though I write from my own sorrow,

October 1, 2025 Opening October October, you arrive with new light, with skies that burn orange at dawn, and leaves that whisper of change. I step into you carrying love, carrying memory, carrying hope that grief and beauty can walk side by side. Here begins another chapter, a turning page, yet with the same thread of devotion, woven through each day. Wednesday, October 1, Afternoon Reflections It's almost 3:00 PM on Wednesday afternoon. Earlier today I made a trip to the g