I still feel married. The dichotomy of this phrase is largely dismissed by widows. Conversely, we pass it around like bread at the dinner table, slathering it with butter and comforting our palates with the way it rolls off our ...
I have believed in God for as long as I can remember. My mother and the church indoctrinated me with visions of the cross, and on Sundays, I trailed behind her with hurried steps while she marched us towards service ...
Allowing myself to be happy, after the death of my husband, always felt a little like betrayal. It felt like I was shouting from the highest peaks that life without him was enjoyable, like I didn’t care that he had ...
My first grief therapy experience was a disaster – a Freudian approach connecting everything back to sex and my parents that left me feeling more broken and bewildered than when I began. The counseling was shoved in my face about ...