Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grief. Show all posts

Thursday, September 17, 2026




A Daughter's Walk Through Grief


Nature, Botany of Trees, Healing Through Nature, Grief Journey

Date Published: 05-23-2025

Publisher: Holy Cow! Press



These intimate portraits of trees are a balm that heals grief.

In this memoir, Stephanie Mirocha weaves a blend of botany, philosophy, personal reflections, and healing through nature from grief after the loss of her father. Trees provide the backdrop of friendly support she clings to as she revives her father's educational Tree Trek. She "speaks for the trees," bringing enthusiasm to the treks she leads. Each chapter focuses on the science of a different tree, connecting the reader with the beauty of nature, and the vitality that comes from listening to the guiding wisdom of one's inner voice.


Excerpt

I’d known all along my dad was volunteering for tree projects in the park, starting with invasive buckthorn shrub removal. My daughter had told me about Grandpa’s tree tags. For 15 years, I might have randomly come across one or two tagged trees on my exercise walks, probably telling my dad how much I liked what he was doing. Beyond that, I didn’t look for more information or even think about it. My work took me away on weekends, and Tree Trek was only one Saturday a year. A favorite photo my mom gave me years earlier I knew perfectly well was a Tree Trek promo taken for the neighborhood newspaper. Yet, never before had I noticed that in it, he’s wearing a pair of binoculars around his neck! In fact, I ended up using that photo for his memorial service, creating a birch bark frame to surround it. How many people are like me, needing big arrows under a spotlight before they take notice? Understandably, we’re distractedly putting energy and effort into making a living. Our focus is directed elsewhere as parents. Sometimes we’re just not paying attention.

When I started paying attention, the whole picture swung into a full and complete view. My perspective shifted. Things no longer lined up within me the way I was accustomed, and as a consequence a new picture presented itself. My heart led me to realize that I very much wanted to pick up my dad’s legacy and continue where he had left off. Like Douglas-fir, you could say I needed to place myself in a new genus, a genus I never imagined existing in previously. I no longer, however, fit in the former one. Being here now feels familiar and safe, like home. It makes me feel connected and alive. There is no going back!

Each one of us evolves as we go through the many ups and downs of life. Even in the midst of grief and loss, opportunities present themselves for listening, paying attention, taking notice and following where your own arising inner wisdom leads. As we unlock from the inside and nurture what we find there, a new purpose can reveal itself allowing us to share latent gifts we each possess within us. We may even emerge significantly changed.

The winter after my dad died, upon getting the go-ahead from the park district to revive Tree Trek, I waited for spring to arrive and the snow to melt. Then, I walked my dad’s original route using his initial map to locate trees while planning for my own, first Tree Trek. I was so excited! The Douglas-fir from my dad’s photo was the first tree I looked for when planning my route. The probability was high that it would prove to be one of his tagged trees. Great anticipation of confirming this filled me as I crested the brick stairway of the park memorial that rests nearby Douglas-fir’s hill. That monument was familiar, but then I stepped beyond into an area of the park where I had never set foot before.



About the Author


Stephanie Mirocha is a visual artist, author, Minnesota master naturalist and science communicator who grew up climbing trees and exploring the city park across from her childhood home. Her creative art expression not only takes form in her passion for writing but also translates into her career as a fine art painter. Besides creating the art for this book, she has illustrated four children’s picture books connecting children to nature. Frog in the House won the 2016 Giverny Award for a science picture book in English, and My Little Book of Bald Eagles won 1st place, Juvenile Nonfiction, in the 2010 Next Gen Indie Book Awards. She and her scientist father shared a poetic heart and a love for nature, each informing and supporting the other throughout their close relationship. Graduating from the University of Minnesota with a BA in Philosophy, Stephanie followed her free spirit and embraced the unconventional life of an artist after moving to Aitkin, a small town in north central Minnesota. This is her first written book. Her art business website is https://stephaniemirocha.com/.


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Tuesday, May 5, 2026



Middle Grade Fiction

Date Published: Feb 24, 2026

Publisher: Small Circles Press


Ivy Leigh’s a feisty eleven, almost twelve-year-old who could never imagine using a fist to solve a problem. But that was before. Before Momma died. Before her BFFs, Lizzie and Ruthie, started pressuring her to change. Before they told her that Michael, the cutest boy in school, has a crush on her. And, before two jealous bullies—Rachel and Winona teamed up to badger her on the bus and at school. Rachel calls her ‘Poison Ivy.’ Winona shoves her into a crowd at school. Hurt and humiliated, Ivy Leigh, on impulse, fights back. It’s a mistake she instantly regrets.

Ruthie and Lashonna know these bullies. They know their backstories and where they’ve come from. But they’re not the only ones. A cast of quirky characters like Mr. Winters, the wannabe cowboy next door who speaks his advice in the language of old-world slogans. There’s Miss Aurelia, an old hippy, whose eyes don’t work so well anymore, but who has a special kind of wisdom she shares with Ivy Leigh. And there’s Momma’s best friend, Miss Neola, who takes Ivy under her wing, and helps her understand that bullies have struggles too.

In the end, Ivy stands up for herself, not with a fist, but with a heart, walking in the shoes of Rachel and Winona, Lizzie and Ruthie, and even Grandma and her sister, Viv, who all struggle with loss and loneliness and sometimes misunderstanding too. Ivy soon learns that through all of this, she has never been alone, that Momma is still living in her midst, under that strawberry moon they both loved so much.



Excerpt

Chapter One: The Package


“She’s coming for you, Peachy.”

He leaped off the bed and scrambled toward me. Together, we stood at the window, watching. I’d heard the roar of that muffler. The sound of the crash. It all spelled trouble. Up until now, Peachy was unknown to her. But I knew it would never stay that way. Dad was at work. She always knew the perfect time to strike.

“That was Mom’s gnome!” Nat’s shriek pierced the air, and I knew this was going to be bad. I took the stairs two at a time, in boxers and a tank top, with Peachy trailing behind. It was early on a Saturday, Viv was still in bed, and I hadn’t even brushed my teeth. But that never mattered to Grandma. This was a surprise attack; we were in her sights, and she had a total takeover in mind. I tucked Peachy away in his crate and latched him in tight before heading out to the front porch to see what was going on.

And there she was. Bulb shaped and full of bluster, Grandma stood with Nat at her side, staring down at the smashed garden gnome. He was pink-faced with a green hat and a little red jacket. Mom named him ‘Happy.’ He made her laugh just to look at him in the midst of her treatments and trips to and from the hospital. But now Happy was here all smashed up in the garden, and Mom had been gone for almost a whole awful year.

“That is the tackiest thing! People will question the sort of people who live in a house with a thing like that out front!”

Things went quiet for a moment, I don’t think Nat even knew what to say to that.

But I knew this wasn’t going to be about the garden gnome. She’d come about Peachy who we’d hidden from her for a whole two weeks. But I’d had a funny feeling about that lately, Grandma had eyes and ears everywhere.

A minute later, I heard the squeak of metal behind me. And then, to my shock and surprise, the screen door flew open. Within seconds, Peachy bolted out, lunged at Grandma and nearly knocked her off her feet. How on earth did he get out of there, I thought.

“This! she bellowed. “This is exactly why I’m here!” Her face was wrinkled, powdered and puffed, with a coat of bright red lipstick smeared across her lips. Cruella had nothing on her. A true animal hater, she shrieked again at the sight of him.

I came running down the sidewalk then and scooped Peachy up in my arms. “It’s okay, boy,” I said, rubbing his peach-colored fur and holding him close.

“It is not okay! That dog has accosted the neighbors and now he’s attacked me! Always on the loose, with no training and no hope of it at all. Why was I not told about him?”


About the Author

 

 Gael Lynch is a writer and storyteller, a teacher whose love of kids and furry creatures has followed her throughout her life. She now lives in coastal Carolina, a place of sunny beaches and warm breezes with her husband Tom and her rambunctious golden retriever, Wrigley. However, Newtown, Connecticut, with its pastoral beauty and kind-hearted people will always be a place she calls home.


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Wednesday, January 7, 2026

 

 


Our family's story of adventure, mysteries, and tragedy


Religion / Christian Living / Grief / Nonfiction

Date Published: November 4, 2025

Publisher: Lucid Books Publishing



My Mountains is a tender, soul-searching memoir about grief, faith, and the quiet strength it takes to keep climbing. Set in the rugged beauty of the Rockies, it tells the story of a mother who endures devastating loss and finds, not answers, but presence—in the trees, the trails, and the God who meets us in our pain.

This book is for anyone who has stood at the edge of heartbreak and wondered if joy could still be real. Through lyrical storytelling and honest reflection, My Mountains offers hope without platitudes and peace without pretending. It reminds us that we’re not alone on the trail—and that sometimes, the steepest paths lead to the most beautiful views.

Whether you are grieving, searching, or simply longing for beauty again, this book will walk beside you—and leave you changed.

 



Review

A short book with a big message about trusting God and remaining faithful even in difficult times, knowing that God has promised to always be with us and that He will ultimately bring good from any evils that surround us.

In the darkness the Light shines through.

Both scriptural and practical encouragement on trusting and knowing God. Truly a good read.



About the Author

 

 Chris Smith is an entrepreneur and owner of multiple healthcare businesses across five states. He’s a father of six, grandfather of fifteen, and a natural leader who inspires others to pursue meaningful missions.

He feels closest to God in the mountains—hiking, paddleboarding, camping, and finding peace in wild places. My Mountains is his invitation to walk through hardship, hope, and the sacred beauty of life.

Chris loves people (but not crowds), old books, big views, and a life that’s honest, hard, and full of purpose.

 

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Monday, April 28, 2025

 


Death & Grief, Parenting, Self-Help

Date Published: 06-20-2023

Publisher: Koehler Books


 

A week before Christmas 1951, Dr. Ralph Russell risked everything to voluntarily enter a locked federal drug-treatment facility known as a "narcotic farm."

Sixty-five years later, Dr. Russell's granddaughter Debbie suffers a debilitating crisis of identity when her father (Dr. Russell's oldest son), always her biggest fan, is accepted into hospice.

Debbie's investigation into her paternal lineage reveals family secrets and ignites her mother's volatile outbursts, propelling her into therapy.

When therapy fails her, the grandfather Debbie never knew saves her, and she collaborates with her dying father one last time to make her biggest dream come true.

 

Crossing Fifty-One pulls back the curtain on the internal struggles of midlife and provides a blueprint for redefining one's self beyond the constraints of addiction and dysfunctional family dynamics.

 

 

Excerpt

Chapter 1

 

Now: Christmas 2015

 

“Should I call 911?” The server smiles politely, her eyes locked on Dad.

“Let’s give it a minute,” I respond, attempting to project a pleasant, calm demeanor I don’t actually feel. The last thing Dad wants is to be responsible for lunch being called off.

Miraculously, Mum nervously agrees.

Nodding, the server glides away.

Slumped in his chair, eyes closed, Dad does not move. At least he’s not thrashing around on the floor. That would draw too much attention.

The muted sounds of conversation and clinking silverware blend seamlessly with Nat King Cole’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” The upscale St. Paul restaurant, a lovely relic of the Victorian era, is decked out in holiday splendor, appealing to Mum’s heightened need for that certain aesthetic. My reservation has secured us a cozy table near the fireplace. We are tucked behind one of several glittering Christmas trees scattered throughout the restaurant. Table placement is key. Mum cherishes her privacy even when dining out.

However, despite all my efforts at concealment, a young woman makes her way over to our table. “I wasn’t meaning to eavesdrop,” she begins, “but I work in a nursing home, and this happens pretty regularly.”

Her gentle voice calms me but glancing at Mum and seeing the fake smile she dons like a mask, I feel my heart beat a bit faster. We have been exposed.

The young woman continues. “One little trick I’ve learned is to put a Kleenex or napkin in front of the person’s face to monitor their breathing.”

I could see Dad was breathing, but now I struggle to control the slight panic that has crept in and taken its place in my chair at our table.

I suppose there are worse ways to go.

Since Dad’s Parkinson’s diagnosis over a decade ago, I’ve had a front-row seat to his slow disappearance. Once the buffer and the glue for our little family, he now struggles to fulfill his most important role: keeping Mum happy. This morning, he insisted that he could manage the holiday lunch outing, but just getting from the car into the restaurant was touch and go.

I exhaled once we were seated at our semi-secluded table. We ordered our food, and Mum immediately began prattling on about how lovely everything looked. I nodded and smiled, playing my role as a dutiful, devoted daughter. When Mum finally paused her soliloquy, we both glanced over at Dad.

He was out cold.

That was about ten minutes ago. Or was it ten hours? I can’t tell.

Mum keeps talking. I guess it helps her take her mind off her unconscious husband. I keep smiling while monitoring Dad’s breathing out of the corner of my eye. The restaurant staff hovers in as nice a way as possible. Finally, we agree that 911 should be called.

After what seems like forever, three burly paramedics make their way back to our table. By this time, Dad is coming around.

“What did I miss?” He smiles weakly.

His smile fades as he glances over at Mum.

“I’m so very sorry.”


About the Author

Debbie Russell is a lawyer-turned writer. She spent twenty-five years as an Assistant County Attorney in Minneapolis, prosecuting numerous high-profile cases—specializing in those involving domestic and child abuse. At age fifty-five, Debbie took early retirement, giving up a full pension for the freedom of time. She now spends that precious time writing, restoring her property to native prairie and wetlands, and training her rambunctious retrievers.

Debbie’s first published article appeared in the Minneapolis Star Tribune in 2001. After that small triumph, her writing focused primarily on legal briefs and memoranda, which were consigned to district court files. Debbie resumed creative writing in 2014 when she began her storytelling blog by sharing personal stories and professional experiences that touched her life in a significant way. Her top-ranked December 2021 article for Elephant Journal, an online journal that celebrates the mindful life is entitled “Getting the Most out of Therapy: Easier Said than Done,” and is partially based on events in her book.

Debbie's award-winning book, Crossing Fifty-One: Not Quite a Memoir, was released in June of 2023. In 2024, she became a regular contributor to the Minnesota Star Tribune, writing about criminal justice and adjacent issues.


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