My Story

When my husband died after 55 days of marriage, my life perspective shifted.

A lot.

Matt was killed instantly in a car accident. I was at home, finishing up our thank you notes for wedding gifts when the Coroner knocked on our door. Many details of those moments are fuzzy, but many are bright and vivid. For instance, I distinctly remember looking at the Coroner's hands and noticing that she had on a wedding ring. I thought about how she would go home that night and probably hug her husband a little tighter after being with me.

My expectation of what life was supposed to be and all of what I hoped for was gone in an instant and I knew I would never be the same.

Sacred Ground

Picking up the pieces after a loss like this is a bit like going into the witness protection program.

Everything I had ever known about myself,

how I looked,

{I gained about 50 pounds...}

how I acted,

{Uncontrolled tears, panic attacks and the like in public...}

how I interacted with the world,

{Do I wear my ring? Do I go out to meet new people like other people my age?}

was radically changing.

But, even those in the witness protection program must take with them fundamental aspects of themselves which can never change. I had to go to the deepest depths of myself and

figure out what those aspects are for me.

Where does God fit in?

{Does He? I know He does, but how? It’s different now…}

Who are my real friends?

{My definition of real shifted…}

What remains at the core of who I am?

{What makes me happy? Why?  How?}

I knew I had to reinvent myself in many ways.

My current journey of being married to an amazingly supportive, loving, safe, funny, generous man, teaching middle school and living a happy, simple life in Denver
 with my miraculous friends and family has happened because

I learned how to care for that core of who I am.

I learned to evaluate what I put my energy into.

I learned that my loss doesn’t have to define me;

it is a part of me, but it's not the essence of who I am.

My Miracles

This wasn't easy.
While in my deepest pit of despair of feeling like I wasn’t making any progress towards
what life “should be” someone very wise told me this:

“You are not doing “nothing”. Being fully open to your grief may be the hardest work you will ever do.”

Learning how to receive love and support like this was a trial and error process
of accepting Truth.

Living

I am not the person I once was but in many ways I have changed for the better.

The fabric of my life is now woven with humility and gratitude.

I have learned to embrace mystery in a way that frees me to see true beauty in life.

For this I am grateful.