About the Real Stages of Grief

by: D.G. Kaye

How does one review a heart, soul and mind book like this? Does one say it’s well written? It answers very human questions in an ordinary way that all can understand? Many of us will go through this, so it’s a helpful read?

A Journey Through Loss

Written by D.G.Kaye, after the death of her husband, the love of her life; this helpful book speaks from the pain of experience. She is not a therapist, nor a psychiatrist, nor a professional healer of any sort. And she is right up front about that fact.

In her own words “I devoured books on everything from grief to the afterlife, always striving to make sense of the roller coaster ride I was on,”

I think the best way to impart something more of this book is to speak directly to D. G.

ResaThe cover of your book has the words: Shock, Fog, Anger, Triggers, Guilt, Anxiety and Denial swirling in a circle. At first I thought the words were repeating in order, but upon a closer look, I realize that they are not in any order, but do repeat. How did you come up with it? Why the words are not in any order?

D.G. –  For this cover, the concept came to me immediately.

Grief is like an ongoing spiral with ups and downs. The words inside are just some of the phases grievers experience. The fact that the words are in no particular order and some not repeated is precisely how grief works.

We may visit phases over and over again through time, and some may dissipate with time. Thus, the grief spiral  is far from linear but, more chaotic.

It was above 0c and cloudy out, not a peep of sun in the sky. A perfect day to shoot a shadow free piece of wall art, that seemed perfect for this post. It was only a 20 minute walk to get there.

 Suddenly, as I arrived, it became a sunny day with nary a cloud in the sky. There was a barren tree’s shadow over the painting. I shot it anyway. To me, there is something poetic in this image, that relates to grief – something about the shadow.


ResaDebby, can you see why I think that? Can you put it into words? 

D.G. – Oh wow Resa. I love the shot with the tree’s shadow. If I were to relate it to grief I would say that when you love deep, it’s like carrying sunshine in your heart. And when you lose that love of your life, despite all the horribleness, there will be days when the obstinate clouds clear and the sun shines through, although the shadow of grief is never too far away.

ResaPerfectly, poetically and profound said.

After the pics were taken, there was still not a cloud in the sky. So, I hopped on a streetcar, heading home. About 3 stops later, Suddenly, it clouded over. There was nary a crack of sun to find. 

ResaThis seemed mystical to me, Debby. Does this touch you, or am I just a sentimental fool? 

D.G. – Oh no Resa, you may be sentimental – like me, but no fool. I love that you were working on this post and came across these poignant images in your travels.

Remembering that grief is love with nowhere to go, the image reminds that even without sunshine, the shadow of love always sticks with us. Not to mention, it reminds me of the Tree of Life – rain or shine, we are branches off the Tree of Life where memories live deep within, sometimes shadowed, but always there.

In the book D.G. writes:

“In the aftermath comes the loss of us. Our grief replaces replaces the lives we once knew.”

ResaHas writing this book been cathartic? Has it helped you to replace that life lost, with a new life?

D.G. – In some ways this book was cathartic to write, but in many other ways, it was difficult to write; because to write, dredging the info up meant remembering moments that could take my breath away and have me leaving the computer for an emotional break.

In no way did writing this book help to replace that ‘life lost’, as nothing ever could. That life is no longer tangible, but seared in my heart.

But, the book offers a lot of understanding of the trials and tribulations of the process of grieving through time, understanding that it’s difficult to let go of a life you’re familiar with when it’s snatched from you, with the importance of eventually finding our way back into a new way of living.

Thank you to D.G. Kaye (Debby to her pals) for her time answering my questions! Debby, I appreciate this more than I can say!

Meet D.G. Kaye

Congratulations to Debby for being officially in the top 5% of Goodreads Reviewers!

About the Real Stages of Grief is available world wide at Amazon.

Click on book cover to go to the purchase page on Amazon.com

“Personally, I don’t believe there is any cure for grief. It’s not a disease that we will get over and feel better about tomorrow. Rather, it’s a new addition to our lives, one we must become acquainted with.” – D. G. Kaye

Pics taken by Resa – 2023 – 2025

Toronto, Canada

The artists in vertical order:

The Dreamers, Julia Praza, One Day Creates, Unknown, Blackburn, Unknown, Chris Perez, Vizla Bacon, Blazeworks, Adrain Corne

The Weight of Snow and Regret

by: Elizabeth Gauffreau


Liz– Thank you for hosting me on my blog tour for The Weight of Snow and Regret, Resa!

Resa – My pleasure, Liz!

Liz – Today I am very excited to shine the spotlight on one of the minor characters in the book, bandleader Sterling D. Weed. But first, here is what The Weight of Snow and Regret is all about.

For over 100 years, no one wanted to be sent to the Sheldon Poor Farm.

By 1968, no one wanted to leave. 

Amid the social turmoil of 1968, the last poor farm in Vermont is slated for closure. By the end of the year, the twelve destitute residents remaining will be dispatched to whatever institutions will take them, their personal stories lost forever.

Hazel Morgan and her husband Paul have been matron and manager at the Sheldon Poor Farm for the past 20 years. Unlike her husband, Hazel refuses to believe the impending closure will happen. She believes that if she just cares deeply enough and works hard enough, the Sheldon Poor Farm will continue to be a safe haven for those in need, herself and Paul included.

On a frigid January afternoon, the overseer of the poor and the town constable from a nearby town deliver a stranger to the poor farm for an emergency stay. She refuses to tell them her name, where she came from, or what her story is. It soon becomes apparent to Hazel that whatever the woman’s story is, she is deeply ashamed of it. 

Hazel fights to keep the stranger with them until she is strong enough to face, then resume, her life—while Hazel must face the tragedies of her own past that still haunt her.

Told with compassion and humor, The Weight of Snow & Regret tells the poignant story of what it means to care for others in a rapidly changing world.

For today’s tour stop, I will introduce you to a character who makes a cameo appearance in the novel, Sterling D. Weed, a historical figure known for being the oldest working bandleader in the state of Vermont. He worked as bandleader until his death in 2005 at age 104. He was also known for having the first integrated swing band in New England. 

Truth be told, I couldn’t resist putting him in the novel. When my late brother George was in high school, he played saxophone in the Enosburg Falls Town Band with Sterling D. Weed as bandleader. In college, George played gigs with Weed’s Imperial Orchestra to earn money to live off-campus. How he loved to tell his Sterlin’ D. Weed stories! 

Weed’s Imperial Orchestra appears in the novel in a brief scene when Hazel and Paul celebrate their first wedding anniversary. The first song they hear is the Weed’s Imperial Orchestra’s theme song, “The Wang Wang Blues.”

Click on the above pic, and a new page will open. You can listen to the music while you read!

Excerpt from “Newlywed” chapter

Hazel turned her attention to the raised stage. Seated behind their music stands, the members of Weed’s Imperial Orchestra wore fancy black suits and bow ties. She’d never seen anyone wear such a fancy suit before, much less a bow tie. Their shoes would be polished to a high shine, even though no one could see them. The man standing on the stage with his back to the dance floor must be Sterling D. Weed himself. When he turned to face the crowded dance floor, Hazel was surprised to see a man of about Paul’s age, smooth-faced, bespectacled, and balding. Except for the fancy suit and the saxophone on a strap around his neck, he looked like her high school algebra teacher.

“Welcome, one and all! The boys and I will start you off this evening with our theme song, a little foxtrot called ‘The Wang Wang Blues.’ If you don’t know the foxtrot, don’t worry. Come out on the dance floor anyway; you’ll pick it up soon enough. And if you don’t, there’s always next week.” He bent over and picked up a clarinet. “Ready, boys? A-one, a-two, a-three.”

The tempo was lively, the notes tumbling from the clarinet sparkling. The melody would not be denied, despite repeated kicks from the bass drum to keep it in check—nor could it keep the crowd in check, as they stepped and glided and twirled.

Sterling D. Weed announced the next song as “Sing, Sing, Sing,” but instead of a sing-along, the drums pounded out a primitive beat, seemingly of their own volition. The crowd cheered, and an explosion of brass blasted from the stage as the dancers flung themselves about the floor. 

Paul’s eyes widened. He mouthed something, grabbed Hazel’s hand, and pointed behind him. 

Outside, he kept hold of her hand and led her to the edge of the lake. “Jeezum. We coulda got killed in there.” He pointed to a large rock. “How about we listen from here?”

Now that she was no longer in danger of being kicked in the head or trampled to death, Hazel was perfectly content to listen to the rest of the song that seemed hell-bent on driving itself off a cliff. 

About Elizabeth Gauffreau

“I am drawn to the inner lives of other people–what they care about, what they most desire, what causes them pain, what brings them joy.”

Click on About to read up on Liz, or on her name in smaller print to visit her blog!

Look at all the places you can buy Liz’s book!

Click on the photo list below. It will take you to a page where all the links are live. I bought mine on Kobo.

I’ve read 3/4 of this special book. I add this music and piece of street art as extras. Read the book and discover why!

Some have said the first Lightnin’ Hopkins video wasn’t available to them. In case it didn’t work for you, here’s another try!

More Than Coffee – by Lauren Scott

As a person who enjoys poetry and coffee, the decision to read Lauren’s well written book was a no-brainer. As a matter of fact, I languished over every poem and bit of prose. For 33 mornings, I read one piece with my coffee.

Each day’s reading brought me warm thoughts, stirred feelings and created a desire to be creative. What a great and positive way to start the day.

In this intimate look at her and  her family, nature plays a huge part in stirring memories of irreplaceable experiences, both uplifting and occasionally heartbreaking. All emotions are expressed beautifully in positive light.

I couldn’t resist picking my favourite poem.

This poem is an experience I share with Lauren. She could have been writing about me and my mom. I am deeply moved.

There is no copy and paste from the ebook. I wrote this out, and proofed it many times. It seems the word program likes to correct non-mistakes. In the final proof, much to my amazement I saw the title was in blue. All the titles are in blue. Yet, I believed this title was in red. Lauren, I hope you are okay with me keeping the red!

So, what’s with all the sunflowers? How do they tie in?

The above sunflower was in my last street art post. Lauren left a comment. I responded.

L“I also love the sunflower which reminds me of my daughter.”

R – Sunflower; apologies if I missed this/don’t remember it in a post, or in your book! Why does the sunflower remind you of your daughter?

LAnd no, I don’t think I did a sunflower post, so please don’t worry, Resa. My daughter is 30 and loves sunflowers, but she exudes their sunny disposition, smiles all the time, loves to laugh, and practices optimism more than pessimism. 

She may have been speaking of her daughter, yet I see Lauren in those words. It’s as though I could have just used those words about her book, about herself.

ABOUT LAUREN SCOTT

(Abridged from “About the Author” in “More Than Coffee”)

Lauren is a writer of poetry and short memoirs. She resides in northern California with her husband of 32 years, and their lovable canine, Copper; they have two grown children. She has authored two collections of poetry; New Day Dreams (2013) and Finding a Balance (2015).

Lauren is inspired to write from her love of nature. Lauren marvels at how the world is interconnected and every living thing matters. She hopes her readers will find a little nugget of delight, comfort, or understanding in her poetry and stories – some detail that resonates with them beyond her words.

Find Lauren’s Books on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B08NCRH4MK?ref_=pe_1724030_132998070

OR “More Than Coffee” on KOBO: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/more-than-coffee-1

Lauren’s Blog

Clown College – Queen’s end Redux 1+

Josh Middleman was the 4th of 7 children. His harried parents had few moments for him. From his 1st day at school, he felt invisible.

Artist: Birdo

No one stopped him from joining in schoolyard games, although he was never a winner even when he won. When he graduated, they were one gown down & one cap short. Josh had to wear his suit. No one noticed. Although he graduated in the top 10 of his class, serious career positions eluded him. His life was a wreck.

One day he came upon a Clown College. Frustrated & bitter, he shuffled through the doors with an upside down smile on his face, and a tear in his eye.

      “You’re in” shouted the Clown College recruiter, as he handed an enrolment form to Josh.

With a painted smile and a hidden heart, he graduated with honours.

As a clown, Josh made many laugh and feel happy. Others were crazy clown scared. Whatever, he was not invisible anymore. Josh Middleman was a “must have clown” for all children’s parties, parades and local promotions.

      Eventually, he married and earned enough money to buy a home at Queen’s end. Here, Josh would don his ginormous clown’s shoes and think with glee, “In your face, unhappiness!”

Photos © Resa McConaghy – 2012, 2017, 2019

Winnipeg & Toronto

Short Story © Resa McConaghy – 2015

I’m Jeepo, and I approve this Redux

How They Met

Why does that fish have a peacock feather tail?” She asked as he sprayed more paint onto the wall.

“It’s a peacock fish,” he answered, his voice muffled by the filter mask that covered most of his face.

“But there’s no such thing,” she asserted.

“There is in my world.” His muffled voice was matter of fact. “In my world, there are peacock fish, and both the females and males have peacock tails.”

“But in real life, only the boys have fancy tails.” She wasn’t ready to leave her reality behind, as she stared at the unfinished female peacock fish.

“Your choice!” he replied.

She witnessed an ardent passion as he sprayed. She was compelled to look closer, then deeper into the mural. Suddenly she was a beautiful peacock fish, elegantly alluring the male who had attracted her attention. 

His voice broke her fantasy. “I’m done for the day.”

As the last word landed, she was back on the pavement, looking up at the painting. 

“Seems like I could just live in there, forever. Huh, well, my name’s Janie. You must be hungry. Do you want to grab a bite? I know a great place in this hood.”

“My name’s Cyan, and yes… maybe… but I’m covered in paint, and I really need to clean up first. He removed his mask. Where can I meet you in say, one hour.”

“Starboard Fish and Chips,” she laughed. “Oh, but I only eat chips, no fish, and they have a special deep fryer for the chips. No fish gets fried in it. 

Janie waited until almost closing time for Cyan, but he was a no show.  She was haunted by the experience all the next day. The day after that, she returned to the mural. Cyan wasn’t there. However, she was.

Janie was larger than life, looking more radiant than she had ever thought herself to be. Cyan had painted her into his mural, her long black hair an electric peacock’s tail. She was ephemeral, and a part of him forever.

BIG THANK YOU to GI, for inviting me to take a stab at her “How They Met”series.

Pics taken by Resa – Late 2013

Gatineau, Quebec, Canada

The Artists:  Sébastien Morissette & Patrick Moss