-
In Loving Memory of Our Chris
Chris Snow, loving and devoted husband, father, brother, uncle and friend died on September 30, 2023. He was 42 years old. Chris was born on August 11, 1981 in Boston, Mass., the firstborn child of Linda and Robert Snow. As a child, Chris was so smiley and talkative that his mother nicknamed him “motormouth” and…
-
Dreams
I dreamt last night there’d been a mistake. Somehow, despite your ashes resting in an urn on the sideboard. Somehow, despite the funeral and the eulogies and the tears. Somehow, despite your months-long absence. Somehow, we were wrong. You were alive. You were better. I discovered this when my phone buzzed while I was out…
-
#28: What Remains
Last week you sat at the table with tears in your eyes. You looked at the kids sitting at the island and said, your voice trembling with sadness, “I’m sorry guys. A dad is supposed to be big and strong.” Our 8-year-old climbed down from her stool and walked over to you. She put her…
-
#27: Where the Light is
Here is what happens in the darkness – things get lost, go unseen, disappear from sight and so, too, from mind. The last many months have been turbulent for me, taxing in ways that are hard to grasp when you are trying to stay anchored during a storm. I have been worn down and worn…
-
#26: Darkness
The world is a dark place these days. Metaphorically, yes, but literally, too. I wake up in the dark. I make breakfast and pack lunches in the dark. I drink my morning coffee in the dark. The world resists waking, the sun resists rising, my spirit resists moving forward. Every bit of me wants to…
-
#25: Holding On
Early in the summer I dreamt my son was dying. My perfect, beautiful boy. I was helpless, aware even in my subconscious that this was too much. My own desperation jolted me awake. I opened my eyes and heard myself saying, “I cannot do this.” I blinked and looked around the dark room. My heart…
-
#24: 40
Dear Chris, Today you are 40 years old. Two years ago I didn’t know if we’d make it to this day. If we did, I thought with certainty, life would look so different for us, full of wheelchairs and breathing machines and all sorts of medical devices keeping you alive. But here you are today,…
-
#23: For Dad
In this week’s episode of Sorry, I’m Sad I talked with Kate Fagan about her book, All the Colors Came Out, which is about the relationship between a father and a daughter. Kate’s book resonated with me on so many levels, but since it’s Father’s Day, it really made me think about my dad. My…
-
#22: Searching for Myself
Yesterday morning I sat in the sliver of sun that streams into one corner of my living room. I wanted to read, drink my coffee, feel the warmth on my face. I wanted to take deep breaths and center myself for the day ahead. I wanted time and space to still my busy mind, so…
-
#21: The Littlest One
One night recently, she cried out for me. She doesn’t do that much anymore, but earlier that night, when I’d tucked her in and softly sung, “You are my sunshine,” in her ear, she’d cried. “What’s wrong lovey?” I’d asked. “I just started thinking about a sad thing,” she’d said. “Oh?” I ‘d asked. “What…
Kelsie Snow is a freelance writer, podcaster and storyteller. She blogs about her family’s life since her husband, Chris, was diagnosed with ALS in June 2019 and shares their story and other’s on her podcast, Sorry, I’m Sad. She lives with Chris and their two children in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
Follow Our Story on Instagram
Kelsie Snow 