My life is divided into a “before” and an “after”. On May 30, 2014, my beloved husband, Matt, died in a mountain biking accident during a routine run at Whistler. I always assumed that if I were to lose Matt, I would die too. Life, however, has a way of moving forward, even when you don’t want it to. This is the story of the early days and weeks of my journey into grief. It is a road that I never wanted to travel, and yet, here I am.
When I lost my husband, Matt, four years ago, I had a serious conversation with my dog. “You’ve got to make it to double digits, little buddy.”