Friendships can last a lifetime, or sometimes for only a season. This unexpected friendship pulled me from the hell of grief. This little cycling studio in Short Hills, NJ opened up the same month my husband passed away, November 2013. ...
The difficult detail when explaining yourself on days when grief appears is figuring out where to start. I was married but now I’m not. Or am I? He died three and a half years ago, so I’m not. But ...
Those nights, the dreadful, pain wincing nights staring up at the vast whiteness of the ceiling listening to the sweet low breaths of my dog Bodie. In the days immediately after my husband George died, I would stay up crying ...
Well, I did it! It only took me three and half years to conjure up the strength and willpower to sell my deceased husband’s truck; but, I finally did. This might seem silly and insignificant to some; however for me, ...
“You don’t know where I’ve been or what I’ve had to overcome because you have never had to. You’ve never lost the love of your life. You’ve never cried over the body of the person you love most in this ...
Five months after my husband’s demise, our oldest daughter got married. The day was immensely bittersweet engulfed with a kaleidoscope of rollercoaster emotions. A few months later, a dear aunt passed away. As I attended her funeral, my spirit was ...
My husband’s 3rd angelversary was last week. My capsized heart still cannot grasp the flood of pain that engulfs me each day. It truly feels like it was just yesterday that I kissed his lips and held his hands for ...
Last week as I attempted to sort through my old clothes, I came across a top that had the Esprit logo printed on it. I had modeled this garment years ago in a fashion show. It was one of my ...
The yoke of my sorrow is a gaping, vast void as I yearn for my husband. The ripple effect for me has caused trauma, sleepless nights, spiraling health issues, doubt, frustration and a profound sense of sadness. As I strive ...
The steadfast, champion hands that tenderly, passionately and protectively held mine for 24 years, turned blue, cold and limp in mine. As I fumbled out of the hospital room, fragmented conversations of sympathy from loved ones swirled in my head. ...