A Bolt from the Blue: Give Yourself Permission

Today was one of those chilly overcast January days with audible rain outside. I had initially planned to spend this day indoors, tackling paperwork. But after a very cold, wet walk with my dog, it seemed like a much better idea to warm up with a hot drink inside a steamy, convivial coffee shop. My soul just wanted to be among people, even if they were all strangers. I decided to bring a book…

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4 Comments7 Minutes

My Ring

Five months after my husband died, I accepted a consulting position and needed to get documents out of my safe. Staring at me from the top of the pile was my ring case. I hesitated, but finally pulled it out and opened it. My heart thumped loudly as I stared at my ring. Such a graceful thing he picked for me. Sparkling diamonds set in warm yellow gold. Marquis cut jewels - one large diamond…

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4 Comments6 Minutes

Five things you need to know about your life after loss

I was finishing an interview with the incredible Jamie Butler at the Lighter Side show which by the way you need to check out. An incredible human being and I highly recommend her work. Our interview together will be posted next week. As we finished our chat Jamie asked me where do you get all this passion from and I said to her that when I discover something that everyone needs to know about,…

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3 Comments8 Minutes

The Return of Some Things Lost

Before I knew they were called hidden losses, I made my own list. I had carried my late husband's office whiteboard upstairs, and wrote down some of the many things that vanished the day he died. I called it "things we did together." Pup walks on the beach Loving phone calls and text messages Taking care of the yard Making travel memories I would stare at the list – much, much longer than this…

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6 Comments7 Minutes

Isn’t Life Grand

It was probably in the second month when we were in my clunky, blue car. I can’t remember where we were headed, but I was driving. Dylan was in the passenger seat and Mom sat in the back, folding her hunched shoulders over her knees. Her black raincoat covered her shrinking body and each time she sighed, the Gore-Tex material would crinkle along with her. Waiting at the stop light at the…

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1 Comment6 Minutes

Choices and Cheeseburgers

I had to make a lot of choices during the first year following my husband John’s suicide.  Choices I was ill-equipped to make considering the fact that in those early days, my shock-saturated brain kept making me leave the house with two completely different types of sandals on my feet. As the one year anniversary of John’s suicide approached, I faced yet another decision. How do I commemorate…

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1 Comment8 Minutes

She’s My Wife

On this day. Four years ago. We became man and wife. I’ve cried hard many a day. This. One of the most tearful of my life. You were so sick. The pain extreme. You couldn’t stop throwing up. A true nightmare. No fairytale. Or dream. You were in the same clothes. From three days before. The experience of our union should have been beautiful. Instead. More like a horror. The happy couples. Laughing.…

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0 Comments2 Minutes

Who is that women in the mirror

Who is that women in the mirror? I think I know her.  Yes I do.  It’s me.  The women whose husband died.  Yes, he died.  He left me.  Left me to pick up the pieces.  One by one.  Day by Day.  Week by Week.  Month by Month.  Year by Year. I see the pain in her face.  It’s in the lines around her eyes, it’s in the lines around her mouth.  She is hollow.  She doesn’t see.  She only see emptiness.…

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2 Comments10 Minutes

Mourning Dew

Expanding essence, settling spirit, vibrating vitality –a trilogy of wellness. Even with these truths aboard, sadness sometimes seeps to the surface, quietly gathers for acknowledgment. For it is also true, real, and right. Like morning dew on leaves and grasses, stale sorrows bead and adhere until a being notices, allows them to vaporize or entwine with restoration and revival. Mourning dew,…

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0 Comments2 Minutes

The Power of Unspoken Messages

How many of us stop to consider what it means to listen? Yet, at some time in our lives each of us will have experienced that universal sense of knowing we have been heard and understood. I first experienced this knowing in childhood. My grandfather, fifty years my senior and survivor of WWII, was the person I trusted with my innermost thoughts, feelings, dreams and fears. Like most people I…

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0 Comments11 Minutes