“I don’t think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that remains.” ~Anne Frank
Despite pink and orange being my two favorite colors, there was a period in my life when I only wanted to wear black, from head to toe.
On Super Bowl Sunday 2002, my life changed forever. My husband of fourteen years died in his sleep of a massive heart attack, and I became a suddenly single mom of a six-year old and an eleven-year old.
Although we all acknowledge that death is a part of life, few of us spend any amount of time preparing for it. I was no exception.
When I married my husband in 1988 and we began planning our life together, the words “till death do us part,” were just that, words.
Who really thinks of death during the happy times?
We had plans to raise our children and watch them grow into young men and start their own families. We envisioned for them what we had for ourselves, the picture perfect life.
Instead, on the biggest day in American sports, I found myself wondering what the future held for my young sons and me. On the days following my husband’s funeral, I often begged for someone to wake me from the horrific nightmare that I felt I was living, only to realize this was now my reality.
Thankfully, I had an amazing circle of …