For a long time I thought I was a caring empathetic being. I really wanted to help when Elise lost her husband to a sudden heart attack—he was 35–the baby was 6 months old. A few weeks after Lane died I called Elise and told her that I had really cared and I know there is nothing I could have done—but I would have tried harder if I had even half a clue. This is a club that has an initiation from hell. I don’t know any way through the mire except right down the middle. I feel what I feel. I am entitled. I cry without apology and I laugh these days—also without apology. Each of us will come to terms with life in our own way–on our own time line. 2 months ago I would not have believed how well I feel today. Nothing is different except I am letting the day be whatever it is and I am loving me. Lane loved me. I am downright lovable. Someone else will love me too. Maybe it won’t happen today or tomorrow or a week from Tuesday. I feel a lot better since I am not afraid. I have an opportunity to shape a new life. I might as well; the old one died with one of the most wonderful people I have ever known.
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