tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70837595699853326822024-03-08T11:29:11.485-08:00Running for KristyI'm not a runner - just a mom trying to deal with the death of her daughter. Kristy was a multi-talented woman and a professional athlete. Running helps me to feel her presence. And it offers a little peace. - Kristy's momKaren Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.comBlogger252125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-72667742072136002512023-11-19T07:53:00.000-08:002023-11-19T07:53:22.924-08:00A HEART ON FIRE<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTeInYenq1c6mRPJfMD-7fDNnmTqsIl9nCS6KxXcSAzsFuFGNWBTf0elxW5PTjuF_E4rnwaJL9B1IKBN5B0bDhcNDeDnaFyTAAgZFd7geKYwx67fH9TS4e_nnjav8k3y2VNiE1lwH6ildHVyj_GU7Sn_GstbNhwYBSHmlXBteXli06kozC0eT78t995Gc" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="3284" data-original-width="2697" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTeInYenq1c6mRPJfMD-7fDNnmTqsIl9nCS6KxXcSAzsFuFGNWBTf0elxW5PTjuF_E4rnwaJL9B1IKBN5B0bDhcNDeDnaFyTAAgZFd7geKYwx67fH9TS4e_nnjav8k3y2VNiE1lwH6ildHVyj_GU7Sn_GstbNhwYBSHmlXBteXli06kozC0eT78t995Gc=w329-h400" width="329" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p>Today when I came back from my morning walk I was greeted by the Japanese Maple near the front door. I brought it with me in the back seat of our Jeep when we moved from California to Arizona. It was in our garden as a volunteer from the larger mother tree. You watered it many times. It has been a constant reminder to me. Your heart was on fire Kristy. And it has never left me. Happy birthday to one who would have been 46 years old today. We remember you in all your glory and keep your fire in our hearts always. </p>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-24604065005753313912023-04-08T11:22:00.001-07:002023-04-08T11:22:23.971-07:00KEEP RUNNING JACK<p>Yesterday our dear beloved dog Jack left this physical realm. I had him for 17 of his 18 years and I strangely thought I was taking care of him. What I now realize is that he was in fact taking care of me. You, Kristy, loved him dearly and were concerned whether he would live a long life. I told you he would. I wanted to keep that promise.</p><p>For those of you who did not know who Jack the dog was, he was my constant companion, always following me from room to room and making himself comfortable in various beds scattered throughout the house. He never let me out of his sight. He was not looking for attention. He just wanted to know I was okay. During the last few weeks of his life Jack stopped following me. He watched me from his bed on the couch but could no longer muster the energy to get up. We were devastated at this rapid decline and tried everything to counteract the effect of chronic pancreatitis but to no avail. In the end Jack finally convinced us he was ready to walk on. Jack had determined I would be okay now. It was his time to go.</p><p>Jack - I have been so used to your constant presence and I am only now realizing the enormity of the gift you gave me. 18 years for such a small dog is no small feat. What you gave me is greater than anything I could have expected. You gave me a reason to love and to hope and care. You gave me Kristy every time you looked at me. You gave me comfort. You gave me everything you were. </p><p>I hope you and Kristy are now together, running in that far meadow up in the hills chasing the cows. You can keep running now Jack... and don’t look back. That blinding light that was Kristy is now you as well. And we shall meet again. </p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgX8t-9O9lRCP2bqL3rTfSDxlXThhsbqLWA-asL45slj8-NQ05maJ1Ns9pJ45e13wInqoopKv4bla9kkLyezVUrW8Pl4TkqYqcC1N5n3WAS1dyoAne6jZDYbrtcUsp3uo7LxL3Tx71i-ikN0pty42v7C0R88TQtr3crmYkhu9JPSsf4WDOGu5QmwW5T" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="519" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgX8t-9O9lRCP2bqL3rTfSDxlXThhsbqLWA-asL45slj8-NQ05maJ1Ns9pJ45e13wInqoopKv4bla9kkLyezVUrW8Pl4TkqYqcC1N5n3WAS1dyoAne6jZDYbrtcUsp3uo7LxL3Tx71i-ikN0pty42v7C0R88TQtr3crmYkhu9JPSsf4WDOGu5QmwW5T" width="215" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p><br /></p>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-46115233986997651602023-03-09T12:04:00.079-08:002023-03-09T12:04:00.153-08:00GRIEF vs RESIGNATION<p>Today, as I think back upon the last 14 years, I am remembering the journey. There was a point in time when I welcomed Grief as it had become a known entity. It was like holding my breath under water and knowing I would have to surface at some point. But the point of extreme Grief can often become an obliteration. A hurt so deep it removes all else; so crippling your mind has to stop and fall to its knees. Eventually you have to stand back up and say enough is enough. It takes a mighty severing of the cord which is not without painful withdrawal. A withdrawal from Grief. How absurd.</p><p>After Grief comes Resignation. A type of cold-war agreement. I will behave if you will behave. It’s not a surrender but more like an agreement between two powerful nation-states. I have been careful to keep this agreement. I will no longer surrender to Grief. I now depend on the ceremonial practice of remembering, which always ends in Gratitude. </p><p>Gratitude is a good place to be. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoB6h77QqWpCbG7a2xTuK-EfWGp9G7hAa0EW0pklYMSmbXlGqArcXpL0gkMuEvyYrYs147Xk_LlCny647dUOET-KKEmJKM9pVqIUubjcwtkFLsy6vARtQdsMtBciwTEplfHNMbqOSdfsoPymQR3fM-BBdJZZODMJSB8gRcdZRdOpIUSELBuoU5bYZJ/s1600/IMG_1545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1204" data-original-width="1600" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoB6h77QqWpCbG7a2xTuK-EfWGp9G7hAa0EW0pklYMSmbXlGqArcXpL0gkMuEvyYrYs147Xk_LlCny647dUOET-KKEmJKM9pVqIUubjcwtkFLsy6vARtQdsMtBciwTEplfHNMbqOSdfsoPymQR3fM-BBdJZZODMJSB8gRcdZRdOpIUSELBuoU5bYZJ/s320/IMG_1545.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-13889511716928472142022-11-19T09:23:00.000-08:002022-11-19T09:23:01.029-08:00Reflections on your 45th Birthday<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIQ1ke8ST8-iHMyKPUcd6dPTa0IC2cjNqVNANq2UFgfO9cAyuzm2sqHIZrjaZkO1bJ57mv5c4hfhJ0NIiIrb3zFsWb0_qrUNRygnY9-3RHgEgYOhjiubBnDFwxVazjJPmboS0Hvs2EsMpIwpeUD3ok6nckNFtv0C1rsyW1jE7CelkfMPRbYo1YVu9/s2048/P10100651.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibIQ1ke8ST8-iHMyKPUcd6dPTa0IC2cjNqVNANq2UFgfO9cAyuzm2sqHIZrjaZkO1bJ57mv5c4hfhJ0NIiIrb3zFsWb0_qrUNRygnY9-3RHgEgYOhjiubBnDFwxVazjJPmboS0Hvs2EsMpIwpeUD3ok6nckNFtv0C1rsyW1jE7CelkfMPRbYo1YVu9/s320/P10100651.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Today, on your 45th birthday, I am reminded of what you wrote in 2003:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">“I do not expect to be made happy at every turn. Neither do I expect to be made sad. I welcome both. I do not expect my heart to plod along safely, not do I want it to. My only expectation is that I feel deeply. Pain, pleasure, grief, euphoria, loneliness, fulfillment and onward. I would be silly, and and ungrateful to resent the fact that we did not last longer."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">“My life is passing quickly. I want to feel grief, elation, sorrow, happiness, pain, pleasure and uncontrolled euphoria. I don’t care anymore about keeping my heart safe.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These feelings describe you completely. Not a person to shirk in the shadows, you embraced life with both hands. You died fighting for your life after being hit by a car while riding your bike at the front of the pack. I think of your passion and conviction every day, especially today. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Kristy, life is so short and precious. Ride into the wind and don’t look back my love. </div><br /><p></p>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-36833823140190524742022-03-09T18:33:00.000-08:002022-03-09T18:33:58.179-08:00IN THE WAKE <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcJdC5ZVZAmSmQftLBmhPLKV56l9DsM8ZFNgpneP9Uaqb4E4eJTtJbdgCR7AiSQHqGIUznXkGEdnCv2r7hFU2CqZMkq5e3dl14nuOZRNlHjz8hHUsF10a71azYLMT_EE2huUkR1ufYUhMlZEmyDbjJdGbQIRN7Z0h1EgpYDHVOH6ua_vn7trU4rTSr=s1536" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1536" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhcJdC5ZVZAmSmQftLBmhPLKV56l9DsM8ZFNgpneP9Uaqb4E4eJTtJbdgCR7AiSQHqGIUznXkGEdnCv2r7hFU2CqZMkq5e3dl14nuOZRNlHjz8hHUsF10a71azYLMT_EE2huUkR1ufYUhMlZEmyDbjJdGbQIRN7Z0h1EgpYDHVOH6ua_vn7trU4rTSr=w280-h213" width="280" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>Keep running my love. I am right behind you. </p>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-41291594948121215492021-11-19T06:27:00.000-08:002021-11-19T06:27:51.794-08:00KEEP SHINING<p>I witnessed the wonder of the moon in eclipse last night and could not help but think of you Kristy. As the moon was enveloped in shadow I saw it change. It was blinding in it’s white light and very very slowly became more and more subdued. But I knew, like everyone else watching, it would eventually be restored to it’s original ferocity. How appropriate it happened on your birthday, this reminder that we are all in a process of change and transformation. Yes, you are not here with me but I sincerely believe you are still passing through me. You have changed me and made me in many ways who I am today. And I am still changing because of this. You brought me so much joy as a child and as an adult. It was not always easy as we were both changing during our journey - both apart and together. Today as always you are moving through me. Who and what I am is and has been transformed because of you. I will look at the moon in a now way from now on. Travel on my love. Keep shining. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mUehtRql0OM/YZez-OnFZYI/AAAAAAABV_Y/ln79k_XCQ-QcqgzO99c37mLVON4VZHQIQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/BDBB801B-51B5-4FE9-B003-05080A381A8F_1_201_a.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1500" height="415" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mUehtRql0OM/YZez-OnFZYI/AAAAAAABV_Y/ln79k_XCQ-QcqgzO99c37mLVON4VZHQIQCLcBGAsYHQ/w303-h415/BDBB801B-51B5-4FE9-B003-05080A381A8F_1_201_a.jpeg" width="303" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-37550562512183178772021-03-09T19:40:00.001-08:002021-03-09T19:49:06.369-08:0013 YEARS LATER<p>Today I hung another piece of blue glass outside. Now there are 13. They shine and sparkle like twinkling eyes. I am thinking how fortunate I am to know you as a daughter, a friend, and a teacher. I see you in others all the time. In the generosity of my sister. In the humor of my brother. In the abilities of your sister. And in the wisdom of your seven year old nephew Ave. Part of us is with you and part of you is with us. So it shall ever be.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r7PLPT2w9PQ/YEhBb0Kd14I/AAAAAAABViY/q94o_5BxLXkJzeLitWrqZgiRljRFGN2KwCPcBGAsYHg/s3824/IMG_3765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3824" data-original-width="2866" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r7PLPT2w9PQ/YEhBb0Kd14I/AAAAAAABViY/q94o_5BxLXkJzeLitWrqZgiRljRFGN2KwCPcBGAsYHg/s320/IMG_3765.JPG" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-20139037244811099962020-11-19T10:45:00.000-08:002020-11-19T10:45:04.665-08:00Reflections on Grief and Going Forward<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t5ZgVYKZk3g/X7a8KZM22xI/AAAAAAABVX8/mSUEBUwswgU9STn2Akurh_p7BB6B_2VAwCPcBGAsYHg/s1600/PICT0435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t5ZgVYKZk3g/X7a8KZM22xI/AAAAAAABVX8/mSUEBUwswgU9STn2Akurh_p7BB6B_2VAwCPcBGAsYHg/w300-h400/PICT0435.JPG" title="Lake Chabot where we ran together" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Cabot Where Kristy Ran<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I wrote this to a friend today, reflecting on Kristy and my journey of the last 12 years...</div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">"I have felt profound regret for many things. Some so trivial it was only a way I think to allow myself a diversion from the bigger picture. I still remember the day I finally decided to hold on to something besides the pain. It was while driving to work at the gallery in Prescott with tears blinding my eyes. I was so accustomed to the lump in my throat and the overwhelming pressure of denial that it had become a symbol of my love for Kristy. Without it what would I replace it with? Acceptance seemed impossible. </div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Funny though that in my dreaming moments when I wake or go to sleep I still remember my regrets. The times I could have, should have still haunt me. Not the times I made her happy, but the times I disappointed her. But I kept coming back to the facts... I loved her. She was. She lived and loved and was <u>truly</u> alive. </div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I remember soon after her death when I was closing out her bank account and the banker said, "Well at least you know she is now with God and has no more pain." I was incensed. I immediately replied, "She did not believe in God and neither do I." I now realize it was cruel of me and unnecessary. But these things stay in your mind. I also remember feeling more alive (though not always in a good way) than I ever had. The lines between dimensions had been blurred. I saw Kristy in unexpected places. I knew she was seeing things through my eyes. I felt life and I felt death. My heart was ruptured and was filled with strange new feelings and experiences I could not explain.</div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I have grieved her as a part of me and I have accepted now the reality of her death. Today I am utterly amazed at my friends who celebrate their loved ones graduation to the spirit realm. This is not who I am yet, though I am closer now than I was 12 years ago.</div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></div><div class="gmail_default" style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">I feel that continuing to allow myself to exhibit grief at this point is an act of selfishness and prevents me from being truly open to those around me. It must seem as a constant complaint to many as there are only so many times you can say you are sorry. What I do feel strongly is that it allows me to feel compassion for those who have also lost their children. I will never consider offering consolation to them as unnecessary. It is a different person who goes forward after this type of loss. Taking their hand is like giving your love to both the griever and the grieved, and it is my way of honoring Kristy as well."</div>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-66523722745418667312020-03-09T19:56:00.001-07:002020-03-09T19:56:37.033-07:00Running Without a Leash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-11A-lNMPcAM/XmcA8Fu3RQI/AAAAAAABUl4/9AAZQOrj4IEd5MpHjO1GL7upSi3OFY-7gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/658BED04-C8D8-4034-AD53-3CABB49E206A.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-11A-lNMPcAM/XmcA8Fu3RQI/AAAAAAABUl4/9AAZQOrj4IEd5MpHjO1GL7upSi3OFY-7gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/658BED04-C8D8-4034-AD53-3CABB49E206A.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
We remember you today - Jack and I. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jack is now 14 years old and has a hard </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
time seeing. But I know he still</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
dreams of you. In his dreams he is a puppy and you </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
are running together at Lake Chabot.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Jack tries to catch a cow. That results in </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the leash being put on again. Oh well, it</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
was worth a try. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Kristy understood.</div>
Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-27282366093605724172020-01-31T09:16:00.000-08:002020-01-31T09:16:31.039-08:00RUSHING AWAY<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought this verse was speaking to you today -- but I think maybe it is speaking to me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Lyrics by Agnes Obel</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Paa8zfkZmo/XjRf4aJ0I5I/AAAAAAABUcQ/SryahvFLYacd-iw1utn4MiwTqPa2bc2IwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/kristy%2Brushing%2Baway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="1315" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8Paa8zfkZmo/XjRf4aJ0I5I/AAAAAAABUcQ/SryahvFLYacd-iw1utn4MiwTqPa2bc2IwCLcBGAsYHQ/s400/kristy%2Brushing%2Baway.jpg" width="385" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh my one, rushing away</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With a bag full of bones</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know the place you left</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still won’t leave you alone</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-68483419263522316202019-11-19T16:20:00.001-08:002019-11-19T16:20:19.262-08:00Anchor in My Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ye2h3QMivM8/XdSGaaaPIAI/AAAAAAABUPg/JKLGWMe_OnUNog6XIf-IGUi5wpvbSyJXACLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/B475C546-E160-4E20-98DB-D02561425189.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ye2h3QMivM8/XdSGaaaPIAI/AAAAAAABUPg/JKLGWMe_OnUNog6XIf-IGUi5wpvbSyJXACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/B475C546-E160-4E20-98DB-D02561425189.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Eyes like two comets</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
hands like an anchor in my heart</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
oh to be drifting</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
like a drunken flower beast</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
beating my wings against the comforting breeze</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Do you see me now?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
are you piercing through the night</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with a thousand glittering eyes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or a moon shadow watering the ground</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your heart the tangled forest</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
damp and swollen, nearly bursting</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
speak to me again my love</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
breathe yourself into my heart</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
let me rest my head on your shores</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For KG Aug 2009</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
PS. I miss you</div>
Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-76206870237253253302019-04-21T09:30:00.001-07:002019-04-21T09:30:06.376-07:00BLACK PLASTIC AND IRON BONESYesterday, while going through an old box, I found this scribbled on a piece of paper. It made me smile as I could feel the tears forming. I wrote this upon receiving the box with your ashes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-scwtGkQIS9M/XLyZ5M-My_I/AAAAAAABTrw/cC3k2TnkOQsHmxrZwAkuBDnBq-YMNWJuACLcBGAs/s1600/poem%2Bto%2Bkristy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1347" data-original-width="1600" height="335" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-scwtGkQIS9M/XLyZ5M-My_I/AAAAAAABTrw/cC3k2TnkOQsHmxrZwAkuBDnBq-YMNWJuACLcBGAs/s400/poem%2Bto%2Bkristy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-21869242302604399072019-03-09T18:16:00.000-08:002019-03-09T18:16:22.555-08:0011 YEARS LATER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qmJ8bv4xPU4/XIRxTzEpslI/AAAAAAABTjM/GvF8Cv2Y1UQR6u5EBxp-wsl95UCkxCsywCLcBGAs/s1600/New%2BZealand%2B2004%2B119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qmJ8bv4xPU4/XIRxTzEpslI/AAAAAAABTjM/GvF8Cv2Y1UQR6u5EBxp-wsl95UCkxCsywCLcBGAs/s320/New%2BZealand%2B2004%2B119.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Look over your shoulder </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I will be there</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Feel the wind in your face</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hold my hand with your smile</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The road is ahead</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
though I can’t see the end</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I know you will wait</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-20718076224988577212018-11-19T16:45:00.001-08:002018-11-19T16:45:40.142-08:00NOTHING IN HASTE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9sxRff9ay9Y/W_NXMHLXVwI/AAAAAAABTSE/NANy57K9FXgAiW9QRE4-jDvJvvyJJkdjgCLcBGAs/s1600/Turkiet%2BKristy%2Bmenlo%25CC%2588s%2Bmed%2Bdruvor-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="1044" height="194" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9sxRff9ay9Y/W_NXMHLXVwI/AAAAAAABTSE/NANy57K9FXgAiW9QRE4-jDvJvvyJJkdjgCLcBGAs/s320/Turkiet%2BKristy%2Bmenlo%25CC%2588s%2Bmed%2Bdruvor-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
A rush to the head, a breath torn apart<br />
the eyes of the world, and eyes of my heart<br />
<br />
I feel you in love and even in haste<br />
A leading line straight with nothing to waste<br />
<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday my love. Forty-one years young.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-90971967561467256922018-03-09T09:06:00.002-08:002018-03-09T09:06:54.271-08:0010 YEARS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-USQUzdfW9yQ/WqK-JrvKGeI/AAAAAAABPe4/W5dfz0_0FKAXv6Cv9Stgq5KainSrDAg6wCLcBGAs/s1600/RAVEN%2BIN%2BREPOSE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-USQUzdfW9yQ/WqK-JrvKGeI/AAAAAAABPe4/W5dfz0_0FKAXv6Cv9Stgq5KainSrDAg6wCLcBGAs/s400/RAVEN%2BIN%2BREPOSE.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I have endured the last 10 years without you. You are with me still, not even death can diminish you.</div>
Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-22280943028269238542017-11-19T07:50:00.001-08:002017-11-19T07:57:02.492-08:00DANCING AT FORTYToday you would be forty years old and I can imagine you being here. You would be strong, resilient and brave. You would be compassionate and open. And I hope above all else you would be dancing. You are always with me Kristy, a part of me so deep we shall never escape. I will not spend my life grieving but will go forward with gratitude. I still shed tears but as I hold you in my heart we are smiling at each other at last.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WxatnG-CHZs/ST2tKe2E-WI/AAAAAAAAGfs/9SzrdoxzuGotAIFE8m43EjXGYAXiQocwgCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/Kristy%2Band%2BMe.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="1216" height="224" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WxatnG-CHZs/ST2tKe2E-WI/AAAAAAAAGfs/9SzrdoxzuGotAIFE8m43EjXGYAXiQocwgCPcBGAYYCw/s320/Kristy%2Band%2BMe.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-41394102381180362392017-03-08T09:25:00.002-08:002017-03-08T09:25:59.556-08:00CORNERS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Today, as always, I am yours....</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ln978DsfUd8/WMA9zNDzLjI/AAAAAAABAdI/Si2eXl0Ih2sLUHQpzwjPfBHmSbzNMYW6gCLcB/s1600/corners%2B2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ln978DsfUd8/WMA9zNDzLjI/AAAAAAABAdI/Si2eXl0Ih2sLUHQpzwjPfBHmSbzNMYW6gCLcB/s640/corners%2B2017.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-80749659452269990542016-03-09T18:11:00.002-08:002016-03-09T18:11:52.672-08:00THE GAME<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lhIa4sDsKNU/VuDXeDw8kuI/AAAAAAAA_3w/nTn8WRmm7Hk/s1600/stone%2Bface.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lhIa4sDsKNU/VuDXeDw8kuI/AAAAAAAA_3w/nTn8WRmm7Hk/s320/stone%2Bface.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
like a game of solitaire<br />
my mind keeps moving the pieces<br />
it doesn't have time to stop<br />
think<br />
wonder<br />
<br />
because i think about you<br />
and i think about the ones<br />
you loved<br />
<br />
the game plays out<br />
and each move tells the story<br />
<br />
only i can't hit<br />
replay<br />
<br />
it takes place instead in my dreams<br />
when you are here<br />
and then you are not<br />
<br />
but yet i dream<br />
and play the hand<br />
over and over<br />
<br />
whether i win or<br />
whether i loose<br />
the game goes on<br />
and on<br />
<br />
sometimes i restKaren Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-33812620649966347502015-11-19T17:23:00.001-08:002015-11-19T17:23:55.868-08:00ANOTHER BIRTHDAYToday was your birthday. I was working today when Pandora played the song "Yellow". How could it be a coincidence? I realized it's getting easier to hear this song. I felt the lump in my throat and the tears swelling in my eyes, but I decided to think of how much I love you instead of how much I miss you. It helped get me though. You fill me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tz31RhZmov0/Vk5zk2FXmXI/AAAAAAAA_yc/8VI5XI8722s/s1600/closeup2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tz31RhZmov0/Vk5zk2FXmXI/AAAAAAAA_yc/8VI5XI8722s/s320/closeup2.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Look at the stars</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
look how they shine for you</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
and all the things you do</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
And you were all yellow</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O7h8GHy2jus/Vk51Dctx0ZI/AAAAAAAA_yo/o_mRXRz8LcM/s1600/halloween%2Bkristy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O7h8GHy2jus/Vk51Dctx0ZI/AAAAAAAA_yo/o_mRXRz8LcM/s320/halloween%2Bkristy.jpg" width="247" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9zrnso_Lu_o/Vk52Es9tw6I/AAAAAAAA_yw/_WZO4ROF_0g/s1600/Turkiet%2BKristy%2Bmed%2BHasans%2Bhund.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9zrnso_Lu_o/Vk52Es9tw6I/AAAAAAAA_yw/_WZO4ROF_0g/s320/Turkiet%2BKristy%2Bmed%2BHasans%2Bhund.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-67784816430933780842015-04-03T14:55:00.000-07:002015-04-03T14:55:08.515-07:00JUST YOU<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UtWMzPOWIgY/VR8Lg9Pxc4I/AAAAAAAA_ko/wis2Qu6m2Z8/s1600/cover%2Bshot%2BKristy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UtWMzPOWIgY/VR8Lg9Pxc4I/AAAAAAAA_ko/wis2Qu6m2Z8/s1600/cover%2Bshot%2BKristy.jpg" height="320" width="231" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
my mind is constantly writing</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a letter to you</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
not a postcard or a memo</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but a manuscript</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It is never ending</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
with no beginning</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it's just</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
you</div>
Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-87226471103511998242015-03-09T01:00:00.000-07:002015-03-09T01:00:05.876-07:00YOU ARE BOTH<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z1ztn15l7AQ/VPs0f2cfqgI/AAAAAAAA_io/sczMW-pg8Hs/s1600/kristy_27s%2Bphoto%2Bbook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z1ztn15l7AQ/VPs0f2cfqgI/AAAAAAAA_io/sczMW-pg8Hs/s1600/kristy_27s%2Bphoto%2Bbook.jpg" height="317" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
It happened in an instant</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
they said you were gone </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They said they couldn't save you</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
it was an ocean of waiting</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I didn't expect those words</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I sat and my mind went blank</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I was numb as a rag doll</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
limp as my breath</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
That moment in time was</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
both the beginning and the end</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
When the worlds collide it is a rebirth</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
nothing is ever the same </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The past memories of you are always</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a blink behind my eyes</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The future is always stalking me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
a shimmer in the curtain</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You are a new memory every day</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
For you have never left me</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You have never been forgotten</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You are my most </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
sacred </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
heart</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-79522522622447104672014-03-09T08:48:00.000-07:002014-03-09T10:20:50.595-07:00MILE MARKER 1<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y9lmQ43EQSY/TBLDxOLsDdI/AAAAAAAAuEo/EAqonKtKpMw/s1600/IMG_0753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y9lmQ43EQSY/TBLDxOLsDdI/AAAAAAAAuEo/EAqonKtKpMw/s1600/IMG_0753.JPG" height="320" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This granite stone sits in my garden with words from one of your poem</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
It has been nearly two years since I ran at the lake. Two years ago I had what they thought was a blood clot in my brain and I spent 3 days in ICU. I was just about ready to leave the house for the lake when it happened. A blinding pain that took away everything and brought me to my knees. As I lay in my hospital bed there was a strange calm. I remember thinking I had wished I could die to escape the pain of your loss so many times before and now I felt a sense of serenity and even freedom. Whatever would be, would be.<br />
<br />
Today I went back to the lake. It was seven in the morning and no one else was around. The sun was just gaining strength and it was beautiful and calm. I ran to the mile marker where there is a granite rock memorial to "Jessica - The Running Girl". Jessica was killed by a car as she was crossing the highway on her way to a run. She died on August 14, 2007 - only a few months before you did. There is a lovely quotation from Mother Theresa on the rock.<br />
<br />
I know it's a small step - this early morning run. I have had so many reasons for not going. Pretty soon I didn't even need a reason any more because it just became the new normal. It has been six years now and many things have become routine. Yet this day lurks in my mind all year and when it is practically spring time I am reminded there is also death, another marker of time. Time spent remembering you and trying to show you how much I love and miss you.<br />
<br />
Of all the things I remember about you Kristy the thing I most admire is your kindness and your determination. These things made you who you were. A strong and sensitive person. Today as I ran I remembered these things. My legs hurt and my heart hurt, but I made the two miles. I feel close to you when I run and I don't want to keep making excuses for things I think I cannot do.<br />
<br />
Thanks for the kick in the pants. I will try to do better. I love you, mom.Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-55367785590214399752013-03-09T08:21:00.002-08:002013-03-09T08:21:39.196-08:00FITFUL STILL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Oe6RyZ6e1KU/UTtfbnyePTI/AAAAAAAA80g/W71CxZlQpAA/s1600/Kristy+poem+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Oe6RyZ6e1KU/UTtfbnyePTI/AAAAAAAA80g/W71CxZlQpAA/s640/Kristy+poem+2.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
<br />
One of your poems in your own handwritting. It seems fitting for today as I remember you in dreams that are "fitful still." My own heart beats in your chest my darling just as yours does in mine. You are never far from my thoughts - and I know you have changed the lives of so many. We all remember you - your strength and vulnerability. Everything around me reminds me of you. Today I will smile as I dream a dream of you. One day we once again dream together.Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-15591683056672969382012-11-19T14:32:00.000-08:002012-11-19T14:32:25.578-08:00Happy Birthday Kristy<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6HBO7ehwIYI/UKqy2nFjj2I/AAAAAAAA8uE/fJXq8_IHYX8/s1600/kristy%2Bat%2Bhome%2B2008-1.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6HBO7ehwIYI/UKqy2nFjj2I/AAAAAAAA8uE/fJXq8_IHYX8/s320/kristy%2Bat%2Bhome%2B2008-1.JPG" width="250" /></a><br />
<br />
Today I celebrate your life Kristy<br />
We will eat pumpkin pie and think of you<br />
Maybe I'll even scoop it out of the shell<br />
and not bother with the crust<br />
Just like you used to do<br />
<br />
yum<br />
<br />
I miss you dear<br />
You are always in my thoughts<br />
I aspire still to be as brave as you were<br />
To push as hard<br />
Love as hard<br />
and<br />
never give up<br />
<br />
mom<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: CENTER;">
<a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="-moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; border: 0px none; padding: 0px;" /></a></div>
Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7083759569985332682.post-15288185078184591872012-03-09T20:00:00.000-08:002012-03-09T20:00:44.779-08:00Four Years Later<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Laurissa and I talked about you today</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">You are here in our hearts</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">and though they ache we can still smile</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">when we remember you.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My spectacular daughter</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BGr_p8vKPxo/T1rRrCekEQI/AAAAAAAA78M/jFvErk_ycxM/s1600/image-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BGr_p8vKPxo/T1rRrCekEQI/AAAAAAAA78M/jFvErk_ycxM/s320/image-5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div>Karen Clarksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04082763397563225021noreply@blogger.com4