…. nor all black or all white. In fact, I’m going to step out on a limb here and say …. that nothing is just black and/or white. Well, except for grief. Parts of grief.In the beginning (and actually longer) my grief was black. Solid black. Cold, inky black. I’ve been in caves before.  You know, under ground, deep and cold caves. And there have…

This week has been beyond one of my comprehension. One of new experiences, new travels, new bonds, and new horizons for myself and the organization.I found out about 2 months ago that some of my fellow widows submitted my story and organization to L’oreal’s Women of Worth. A program that aimed to showcase volunteers of causes, I then found out that…

There are way too many widowed people around. Way. And is it just me or do there seem to be more and more all of the time? It’s as if our “club” is growing by leaps and bounds.And that, my friends, is one of the worst/best things in my world. Last week I met three newly widowed people and two who are not-so-newly widowed. It broke my heart. As if…

…. is not something easily done on this path of widowhood, is it? I have plenty of reasons to not be thankful … and we all know what the biggest one is, as I continue my march toward the second year of his death. This Season is difficult enough for each of us, but for those who’s spouse died during this time of the year it can be excrutiating.