For a long time, I’ve been stewing on the idea of releasing a short collection of essays I wrote about my mom. Most of them were written when she was struggling with, and then dying of, cancer.

I wasn’t sure this collection of essays would come to fruition. For starters, the essays are uncomfortably close. I’ve never released something so personal and I wasn’t sure I was ready. Yet, an even bigger reason for my hesitation was that my mother was a very private person. I wasn’t sure how she would feel about me plastering pieces of her story (through my eyes no less) all over the place. I did a little soul searching, then asked my husband and a few friends what they thought. I had a couple people read the essays. And then I searched my soul again.

My mother will never be able to give these essays her literal blessing. But as I considered publishing them and sending them out for a wide variety of people to read, I felt peace. I felt that my mother would find the beauty in them (although you can bet that she is still raising an eyebrow or two over certain details in them; hello, adult-sized potty; I’m looking at you).

I also felt that they would be of benefit to people who are grieving. Which, in different ways and at different times, is most of us.

And, Mom, if I’m wrong about you giving it your heavenly stamp of approval, then it seems I’m for for some serious guilt haunting.

I love you, Mom.

This collection of essays will be available at the beginning of April. I’ll have an exact date for you soon.

In the meantime, enjoy the cover.