Finding peace in the midst of sorrow
Time heals all wounds. How many times I have said that. Then, after my husband Jim’s death, how many times I heard it. The first time I heard it, I was immediately sorry for every time that phrase...
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Cooking. Something that I love to do. Something that I haven’t done more than a handful of times in the past two years. When Jim died, the love of food that we shared caused a nearly cataclysmic...
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the sound of his voice. Many nights, his stories of New York, Europe, anthropology, mathematics, design, engineering, and attending UNC at Chapel Hill, lulled me to sleep. It didn’t matter, really,...
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