They were right. The second year of grief is worse. No longer in shock, no longer drowning in tears. I’m no longer numb to my new reality. The hurt runs deeper, it cuts more. I’ll have flashbacks of the first ...
It was the second July since my husband John's suicide and my first July living in San Diego. My best friend since teenage-hood, Lynnette and I were desperate to get away from our five children. We had recently become roommates ...