What Happens After?

My husband Phillip died in a tragic accident. I woke up the next morning, and felt certain that I had been dreaming. With my eyes closed, I slid my hand across to Phil’s side of the bed, and felt the cold sheets where his...

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Home is where you hang your heart, not only your hat. When Phil died, the four walls of my home became both a refuge and a prison. I hated going out; I hated staying in.  The outside world was too bright. I felt blinded...

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What Remains

As a young woman entering into adulthood with lofty goals, sterling ideals, and great hope for the future I could have easily created a long list of my personal beliefs. This list would have included ideas about both the tangible and the intangible; broad...

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