The death of a spouse may not kill us, too, but it will certainly feel that way. Grappling with loss is never easy. Grieving in isolation (and through a global pandemic) may be the hardest thing you’ll ever do.

This book is a message from one survivor to another. You are not alone on this lonely path. Discover how I learned to cope– and hopefully you will, too. How I am muddling through and discovering a new me from the empty shell that was left behind– and see what I (and maybe you, too) could eventually become.

As I wrote this book, I only wanted to know that I would make it to the other side of grief. That this terrible, catastrophic event would not be the thing that took me out, too. Because of that fear of not knowing, I developed a series of rear-view mirror hindsights on what I know now, but I wish I’d known know then. 

Follow my journey as I discover the therapeutic joy of fostering shelter pets. How fostering and adopting can bring you new joy and reasons to stick around. My hope with this book is to leave a few breadcrumbs on the trail for the people starting their journey after me. From one survivor to another– you can do this! You will make it, too.  

Donation of proceeds: Half of the proceeds of this book will be donated to two of my favorite causes: Safe Harbor Shelter, to assist women who are struggling with domestic abuse and my  local Humane Society that blessed me with Ginger and Iris. 

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms and Like-a-Mom women (and men) out there who’ve made an impact in another person’s life. I’ve been fortunate to have known several. I’d like to hope I have been that to my own precious daughters and all their wonderful friends I’ve had the privilege to meet over the years. But, Like-A-Mom women appear in our lives all the time. We just have to be paying attention. 

2018 has been a devastating year of loss in the Giordano family. As my girls and I have tried to adjust to a strange, new ‘normal’, the word that comes to mind lately, is grateful. Despite the overwhelming sadness we still feel, I have been humbled by the outpouring of love and kindness from so many friends, both current and close by, to the far-flung, decades-old friends who rushed to our sides when they heard the news. From busy co-workers, who have taken time from their packed lives to assist us in countless ways. To our caring neighbors who have embraced us with their love and concern. Who now check on us often and are happy to lend a helping hand, no matter how small or large the task.

To my daughters– future moms, themselves, I can only remind you that we will travel this dark, scary road together. Gripping hands. Gaining strength from one another. We may be lost in a swirling fog right now, but we will continue to plod on, because there is surely sunlight at the end of this heartbreaking tunnel we are lost in. When one of us stumbles, as we surely will– all of the Like-A-Moms in our lives will be right there with us, holding us up. All we need do, is ask. 

So, to all the Like-A-Moms out there and especially to the countless kind people in our lives, thank you so much. Your kindness has meant everything.   

As I write this, 2018 is just around the corner. Two more days until I have a clean slate. Again. A blank page. A list of promises to myself– that will likely last for only 4-5 weeks. Not being pessimistic, I tell myself. Just realistic. Right? But, there’s something about a new year. 365 days to accomplish something. Try something new. Become someone better. Okay– maybe just a little better. A tweak. A goal to strive for. Maybe something we finally allow ourselves to let go. A burden we’ve carried for too long.  

My new book, Out of the Ashes is about forgiveness. Of the mistakes we sometimes make. Of the promises we failed to keep (or those damned resolutions). Ashes is about two flawed people, who have both made terrible mistakes. Years later, instead of forgiving themselves, they continue to live in the shadow of that single moment, when everything changed.    

I hope you will join me next month for Curtis and Shannon’s journey. It was sometimes painful to write, yet cathartic, too. My New Years resolution? To be kinder– hopefully to everyone in my path. To hurry less often. Enjoy more moments. Savor more books. Discover new writers. To be more active. Writing necessitates sitting for long, long periods of time. So, I’m going to work on that. And when most of these promises wander into the snowdrifts in February, I’m going to try to remember to forgive myself. You should, too. My best wishes for a wonderful 2018. Lauren