What – no cure? Maybe next October.
Time to remove the pink ribbons from our lapels and gorge ourselves with Halloween candy. As November comes around, our grocery store …
Time to remove the pink ribbons from our lapels and gorge ourselves with Halloween candy. As November comes around, our grocery store …
Opening the in-flight menu on my trip back from Denver this past Sunday, I was reminded that Breast Cancer (industry) …
My breast cancer is not just about me as I discovered when my then fourteen year old daughter decided to …
It is a magic time, captured before clocks and calendars and compasses measured time and the distance between us, signifying the turn towards a new year. I’m not ready for it. I am not ready for days that stretch out even longer than each of the thirty-six that have passed since the day my husband died. Thirty-six. I cannot bring myself to convert those days to weeks or to say it’s been over a month already. I’m not ready, not equipped to turn away from a life with him to one without him, even though the bank is clamoring for a certified copy of the death certificate so they can erase his name from the checking account and the mortgage, make things that used to be “ours” all mine.