The day I became a widow was the day I began my desperate attempt to crawl toward any sliver of light after my life shattered into a million pieces.
But it doesn’t have to be this way.
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If love is not a disorder, illness, or diagnosis, then neither is grief.
Given the fact of our mortality, whether we want it or not, aren’t we all members of a Date with Death Club?
Do you know what can go wrong without advance directives and an end-of-life plan? You have NO IDEA.
People experience death in varied ways. Different colors, different cultures, demand different approaches to the dying process.
Having hope as death nears is not always helpful – not if it’s delusionary and detracts from positive end-of-life attitudes and actions.
A cache of old videos recalls the height of the AIDS crisis and its critical, emotional nexus with the developing right-to-die movement.
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