“You’ll never be the same,” he said.
And he’s right, my friend who said these words. I won’t. My Curly Girl won’t. We won’t. We will not be the same. Ever again. And we will carry scars. Maybe even deep, ugly jagged ones. But sure as I sit here on the long southern porch of a guest house in western North Carolina, a storm rolling across the mountains, the sun setting, with some damn good colleagues around me, I know this to be true: We will be okay.
We. Will. Be. Okay.
On June 27, after a really awful and unimaginable series of events, my daughter’s father, my former husband, took his own life. My heart is broken for my precious girl, and for all who knew and loved her father. Completely broken. And in the days since his death, I have often…
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