A Beautiful Life, Still


I’m sitting on my deck, leaning back in my chair, reading, plotting my success as a way to distract myself from my sadness.

Look at your life, Icey. It doesn’t get much better than this. Look at it. It’s beautiful, Icey.

It is beautiful. It’s fall and feels like I’m shedding pain with the falling leaves.

I’m stuck in between. I want to run forward. I need to get in the game.

The beautiful game of life is made up of moments. I look at my dog, the one I always dreamed of having. I’m her chosen one—first and always.

I was Kevin’s chosen one. I like that term because it speaks to what I need to be in someone’s life and it needs to be mutual. Kevin was my chosen one.

Now, I must choose again—not just a man. I must choose to live, experience and enjoy each moment, the way I did when Kevin came along. I attracted the Fire! (my nickname for him) by living life in a state of gratitude, though I’d lost everything.

Now, he’s the only thing I’ve lost. Why does it feel like everything, like the only thing that matters, when I’m surrounded by a lovely life?

Because it’s devastating to go from magic to darkness.

That’s what Kevin dying felt like. He knows. That’s why he guides me back to myself, my path, and my beauty. He wants to lift me up and put me back to my joy and my light. The Fire! wants his presence to matter and reminds me my presence makes a difference in the world. It’s not just about staying alive. It’s about living out loud. Grace through gratitude. I have a beautiful life, still. It’s not a lie; it just hurts like hell.



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