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My current work-in-progress, a post-apocalyptic novel of 90k words, was practically writing itself when my husband began the final leg of his earthly journey in January. Four months later, he stepped onto a golden road, and I was left to travel the broken one alone. My blog posts demonstrate the difficulty of that transition. No lie: I cried every day for over two months. Eventually, I cried every other day. Now, 5 1/2 months later, I cry every week or two. The reasons why ar

Well, Ireland cradles another son in her soggy arms. I took Maury's remains home for burial this week--an event I'd been dreading that...

I don't know how or why it's suddenly August, but here we are: August. August has been my favorite month, not only because it's sunny and...

I'm nearing the two-month mark. Two whole months since I spoke to him, heard his voice, felt the warmth of his touch, and savored the...

I had a lot of plans for today. All of them fell by the wayside the moment I decided to revamp my website, which, along with my social...

They tell me grief is a process. There are good days, and there are bad days. Today was a bad day. The only reason I didn't spend it...

I lost my husband last month. He was my north star. My anchor. My everything. When he died, he took my identity with him. I don't...

REPUBLISHED from 4/30/24: I had every intention of finishing a manuscript I've been calling  The Reaping of Songbird No. 2 , but last...

REPOSTED FROM 4/21/24: Since 2019, our world has changed, and not for the better. It started with the pandemic, then ratcheted up with...