Washing The Bones
Two days before Christmas, when I was eight years old, my father died suddenly and dramatically from a cerebral hemorrhage. Twenty-four years later, on another cold December day, my newlywed husband was killed when his plane crashed while he was giving a flight lesson.
Sitting shell-shocked in a coffee shop a few weeks after I was widowed, a powerful thought arose through my grief:
Something good must come from this.
It felt vitally important to me that the crushing pain must serve somehow, that there must be meaning in these losses. I felt I must do something with my grief besides suffer under it’s terrible weight. I didn’t know what that something would be, and I wouldn’t know for many years, but in time this memoir became a piece of the “something good.” My coaching practice became another piece. The way I live my life now — more consciously and gratefully and compassionately — is another.
Washing the Bones is the story of losing my father and my husband, but it’s also about a deep search for meaning and purpose. I wrote it to understand my husband’s life and death. I wrote it to find meaning. But most of all, I wrote it to support and inspire others who are suffering loss and who are looking for understanding and a way through their grief. I wanted to share what I learned, which in a nut shell is this:
Everything is meaningful.
There’s more to grief than just getting through it.
There is a saying in the book world that you should “write the second book first.” Well, I wrote the second book second, and that’s just how it goes. So many people commented after reading my memoir that it would be great to have a “how to” sort of book on grief, so I’m writing it. I’m calling it:
Grief Girl’s Bedside Guide to Grief: How to Do It, Why You Should, and What’s in It For You
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