The author standing in a field wearing a pink dress with a watch on her wrist holding a copy of her book

The Beginning of the End

The oxygen concentrator hummed in time with the ventilator’s mechanical breath—their sounds a heavy reminder of the life they afforded in the next room. For two years their rhythms filled my childhood home.

Barefoot girl with a navy blue skirt standing on the sand before a body of water with her back to the camera carrying a jar with a handle and a butterfly perched on the neck of the bottle

When Death No Longer Has The Final Say

There is hope for those of us who grieve. Because where love and memories exist, death no longer has the final say—and this changes everything.

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