By Mary Friedel-Hunt
March 27 is a day forever etched in my heart and mind. On this day two years ago, the most important person in my life crossed death’s threshold, leaving me in a shock that to this day takes my breath away. Many days were spent in a fog. It seems a century since I looked into my husband’s blue eyes, held his strong hand or heard his warm voice telling me how much he loves me. In this time I have wept buckets of tears; been ambushed daily by ‘unexpecteds’ that rip open the delicate membrane that protects my soul a bit. I have read dozens of grief-related books and hundreds of articles; met many new friends, most of whom have been drawn into a club we never wanted to join — the club of loss and grief. I could write volumes about death and loss and grief.