This book and the stories presented here could be a lot of things. It could be about death and dying. It could be about accepting my Mom’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis.  It could be about the depression that followed my Dad’s death. It could be about contemplating suicide.

 But really, it’s a love story. It chronicles my journey back to loving myself more fully, of working to find the beauty in the jagged bits of grief when they showsup-and they do oh so randomly and persistently. It’s about embracing the cadence and sometimes shrill of my voice, of learning that slow jog back to living deeply, vulnerably; instead of swallowing the words, emotions and experiences that wait patiently for my acknowledgement.

It’s a love letter to my Mom, Rosie and to my dad, Joe.

I think it’s also a call to action to love one another fiercely and unapologetically. To love with abandon. To find your tribe. to love your tribe, and to count your blessings.

It’s about acknowledging the pain, the shit, the confusion, and the anger that is a partner to grief.
I am not saying it’s easy. I am NOT saying that Ms. Nancy Negative does not take a seat at the table next to me some days. She does.

Or that grief magically disappears. She doesn’t.

 But what does happen, what can happen, is that you learn to live again. Whatever that means for you.

You can do it. 

I swear you can.

With love and light,

Jodi