Splurging and Treating Myself

February 9, 2026 — Pat Bertram

My financial advisor suggested that I splurge and treat myself. “Financial advisor” is how I sometimes jokingly refer to my sibling who helps me navigate various “grown-up” activities, such as buying a house. Despite the facetious title, his being an advisor on financial matters isn’t a joke. Without him, I would have been at a loss as to find a house let alone buy it. I wouldn’t have had any furniture. And I especially wouldn’t have a clue how to do any of the various chores necessary to keep up the house.

My advisor knows what a tight budget I am on, so his “treat suggestion” came as a bit of a surprise. Still, it’s not a bad idea, perhaps even good for my morale. Many women seem to find satisfaction in treating themselves to a new pair of “cute” shoes, but that whole “cute shoe” gene seems to have passed me by. I do have a few pairs of shoes, all comfortable utilitarian types, such as walking shoes or hiking boots, or slip-ons to wear to go out and check the mail. I even have a couple of pairs of black sneakers (for lack of a better term) that I can use if I want to appear less casual. Whenever I get a ride to a big city, I make sure to stop by a sporting goods store to stock up on a couple more pairs of cheap shoes because I never know when I’ll get another opportunity to shop. It’s a good thing, too. When I get home and actually wear the shoes, sometimes they are too big, in which case I set them aside for gardening shoes. Or they’re too small, in which case I only wear them when I drive to do errands. Those that are “just right” I put in my shoe rotation. (I find it’s easier on my feet if I don’t wear the same pair of shoes all the time.)

But a new pair of basic running around shoes is neither a splurge or a treat. It’s more a matter of opportunity.

My diet is fairly basic, mostly real foods, though I do occasionally go to lunch with a friend, which is a treat but not a splurge. It’s more of a necessity, both the company and a meal that is different from what I normally eat. And anyway, it’s in my budget.

If I could find books for my personal library that I would like to read and reread, I’d snap them up in a second (budget or no budget!), but most books aren’t worth reading once let alone twice, and any book that I don’t plan on reading (or reading again) becomes . . . clutter.

I don’t wear all the clothes I have now, so getting something new wouldn’t really be a treat. Mostly I wear old things around the house, depending more on comfort and warmth (or coolth in the summer) than fashion. I don’t even feel bad about not looking my best because I don’t look at myself — I look at what I’m doing. If I go out somewhere, errands or to that occasional lunch, I wear something nice, and I have plenty of “something nice” to wear. Besides, whatever I wear is covered by a coat for half the year, so it doesn’t really matter.

I used to splurge on hats, but I’ve reached a critical mass on headgear. I certainly don’t need more hats!

I have plenty of kitchenware, all the furniture I want, all the . . . I guess, for the most part, I have everything I want. I am by myself and don’t wear things out very quickly. The only thing I might have to get one of these days is a new computer. Although it still seems to me to be rather new, at a little more than seven years, it’s old in computer terms. But that won’t be a splurge. It’s already budgeted for.

Come late spring, of course, I will splurge, might even treat myself to a few expensive plants that I might not otherwise have bothered with, but planting season is still months away.

Until then . . . I don’t know. I suppose it’s a treat thinking about something to splurge on, but for now I’ll stick to my frugal ways.

What would you splurge on?

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, house, life. Tags: , , , , , . 8 Comments »

Grateful

February 4, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
View all responses

I’ve experienced many significant life events and life-changing experiences that influenced my perspective on life, but I don’t have any interest in rehashing any those past traumas. Nor do I have any present traumas to talk about since, luckily, I’m going through a rather static time right now. No major life experiences. I am still enamored with the experience of owning my own home and landscaping the yard, but that’s become simply my life.

What does affect me, and does more every day, is the passage of time. I’ve reached the age of no return — my body no longer heals itself quickly, and so small infirmities will begin to add up leading inevitably to a frailer old age than I might have envisioned. If I’m careful, I might not become as frail as I fear, so that’s the big way that time influences my perspective on life now —carefulness. Mindfulness.

Mindfulness is not some sort of esoteric practice, but a very practical way of approaching the end of the road — being careful. I used to move quickly, but now I move deliberately, mindful of where I place my feet. Too many older people have lost their independence because of a fall, and I’ve already destroyed enough of my body by falling (fake elbow, multiple pins in my wrist and forearm). I tend to think I’m still too young to have to worry about losing my independence, but things can happen in an instance, and I am not taking a chance. At least I’m trying not to.

I take care of myself as best as I can, though I admit, it’s not as good a job as I did when I was younger. I might also be coddling myself more than I should, using any small malady as an excuse not to exercise, but maybe coddling is a necessary a part of taking care of oneself.

I also do things like find chores in the kitchen while I’m cooking so that I don’t get distracted and walk away from a potential hazard. And I pay attention to the sort of accidents that happen when people get older so that I can protect myself, if at all possible, from that happening to me. (Not that we can protect ourselves from everything, but being careful means at least trying.)

Mostly, I’m grateful. Grateful for everything I can do. Grateful for every day I wake up. Grateful for every pain-free moment. Grateful I can still read and understand what I’m reading. Grateful I can still eat what I like. Grateful for the friends I have and the companionship they give me.

Just . . . grateful.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, house, life. Tags: , , , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Comfortable Clutter

January 16, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Where can you reduce clutter in your life?
View all responses

The easiest place for me to reduce clutter in my life right now is to clear up my desk and worktable. Except for my office, where I spend most of my time, I keep surfaces free from clutter. I was always sort of messy, never really having the energy to do a lot of cleaning, but ever since I moved into my own house, I’ve kept everything neat and clutter-free. I like the clean lines — no photos or pictures on the walls, nothing but lamps on the side tables, books in their proper place, kitchen counters bare. I also like that people can drop by without my getting embarrassed by my lack of housekeeping skills.

My cupboards are full of kitchenware and other necessities, but I make sure that whenever I get new items, instead of further cluttering those cabinets, I get rid of an equal number of older items.

I have a lot of boxes of things stored in my garage, but they’re not exactly clutter, at least not according to the definition of clutter as being a disorganized mess — my garage is neatly organized. Still, there are many things, maybe even most things, that I will get rid of, but not yet. Too often in my life, I’ve disposed of various items, particularly materials and tools for a special project, and then later had to buy those items again. There’s a good chance I won’t use most of what I have since my project days seem to be over, but I don’t know for sure, so there the boxes sit. And anyway, the would-be clutter is out of the house so I don’t have to think about or stumble on boxes of stuff. It does help that I got rid of about half of what we owned when Jeff died and I moved in with my father, and another significant portion when my father died and once again, I had to move on. I am clearing the rest out gradually, but at the rate I’m going, I’ll be one hundred and ten by the time everything is gone, but oh, please! Don’t make me live that long!

Mental clutter is pretty much the same, with any possible issues either left in the past, neatly stored away for easy retrieval, or dumped here on this blog.

So am I going to clear up the clutter on my desk? Probably not. Everything I need is right at hand, and if there is too much clutter, well, it’s comfortable clutter, not an embarrassing mess.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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My Interesting Morning

January 3, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I had an exciting morning — a census taker came to my house, which had been selected as part of a randomly selected sample for the American Community Survey. It was my address that was chosen, not me, but still, they wanted my personal information. I don’t know why I hesitated to give my name, and in the end, I didn’t — the census guy said he could put down “lady of the house,” which I agreed to, but I felt silly. They had my address, obviously, and my phone number, so my name would be readily available if they really wanted it. Still, it was one of the few rebellions one such as I (a quiet person not given to demonstrations) is allowed.

I questioned if my participation was necessary, and he pointed to the paragraph that said I was required by law to respond to the survey. I was given a few options: talk to him, do it online, or do it by email. I gave in with good grace, and went ahead and answered his questions. And he answered mine as to the purpose of the survey.

Supposedly, it’s about trying to get people in rural areas a more equitable property insurance, that our insurance out here in the boondocks shouldn’t be dependent on the fires in other states and people in large cities. Which I agree with. People in rural areas, especially people who live in states where the power is centered in a couple of large cities with completely different values, have little representation. Almost everything that happens here is decided in the front range cities. Our vote counts for little in the state, and even in the federal government. Our senators come from the cities, and even the one representative we have doesn’t represent us, only herself. (When it seemed as if she would lose her bid for a second term in Colorado’s Third Congressional District, she moved to the Fourth District, to avoid a difficult rematch. So it’s readily apparent where her loyalties lie.)

After the survey, the census taker and I continued to talk about the problems of living in an area of little to no representation, and we eventually segued to talk of our non-representative’s bill to reschedule the repayment of the Arkansas Valley Conduit Project. He knows more about this region than I do, since he has lived in this area for most of his life, and his family before him. He mentioned the same thing I did — that in the decades since the project was first approved, the rural cities themselves put forth the money to build filtration plants, so the supposed 50,000 people the project is supposed to serve is probably half that. And, as he pointed out, with cost overruns and project delays, few people alive today will be around to benefit. And, considering that these distant rural areas are losing populations, there will be even fewer.

What we both wondered, is where the money is going. Since nothing that Colorado has done since I moved here has benefited this area in any way, the questions have to be asked — why here, why now?

It’s possible that our non-representative is trying to make herself relevant, but who knows. It’s this sort of insanity that creates conspiracy theories. But then, as a prolific reader of mysteries, I know to ask: cui bono. All I know, is it’s not I who will ever benefit.

I’m also sure that filling out the survey won’t benefit me — insurance companies, like states, don’t care about the far-flung rural residents who can’t benefit them, so chances are, nothing will change.

Still, it was an exciting morning. Maybe it wouldn’t have been for you, of course, but for me, who spends most of my time alone and in my own head, it was interesting to talk to someone who knew more of the truth than I do.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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What’s New

November 8, 2024 — Pat Bertram

I seem to be on a blog streak lately: every two months on the 8th without fail I’ve managed to find some words to post. Perhaps bimonthly three times in a row isn’t much in the grand scheme of the world, the galaxy, the universe, but it’s a lot for me. I’m lucky in that there isn’t much to write about. I lead a quiet, sane life (at least it feels sane to me) without a lot of trauma or excitement, but that suits me well. I’ve had enough of both to last the rest of my life.

Oh, there are some things of concern, such as a couple of visitors of the small rodent kind and a crumbling corner of my foundation (for some reason, that particular corner decided it didn’t want to have anything to do with the rest of the house, so it went walkabout) but mostly, I (and my house) have been doing well.

So, what’s new? Snow! Lots and lots of snow. I haven’t seen so much snow in years. In fact, I think we’ve had more snow the past couple of days than all last winter. It’s been so warm that I’d been procrastinating on cleaning up my garden areas for fall, mowing one last time, readying the ground for planting wildflower seeds (which in previous years I did before the first snow) thinking I had plenty of time to do the work, but no. Snow!!

Luckily, they got the foundation concreted in before the snow started, but it will probably be a while before they can replace the dirt and redo the landscaping around the house. It’s ornamental rock, so it’s not much of a problem, and it’s out of the way so I won’t be putting myself in danger, but they might have to wait until the snow melts and the excavation area dries out. Or not. What do I know. And anyway, it’s not that cold, so I doubt the snow will be around for very long.

There isn’t much snow in the above picture of my ramp, but the snow that’s there is just from the early hours this morning. Yesterday, I shoveled the ramp twice. Each time the snow was about six or eight inches deep, so you can imagine how deep the snow would have been without all that work! And without the melt from late yesterday afternoon when the snow turned to rain.

After this storm passes, the days will warm up (though the nights will be colder than they have been), so I’m sure I’ll still be able to do the fall cleanup I’d planned, assuming, of course, I feel like it.

Right now, what I feel like is a cup of hot tea, a warm blanket, and a book to read, so goodbye for another couple of months! It was nice connecting with you.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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Momentous March

March 5, 2024 — Pat Bertram

There isn’t much in my life anymore that I want to or need to commemorate. There’s been nothing spectacularly good or spectacularly bad — just life. Living day by day. Enjoying being alive, or at least being at peace and accepting of what comes. I read, play games on the computer, exercise a bit, try to eat right, visit with friends occasionally. Just . . .live.

If there is any month, though, that should be commemorated, it is March, mostly because so many life of my life changing experiences have happened this month. In three weeks, it will be the fourteenth anniversary of Jeff’s death. It’s hard sometimes to remember that I wasn’t always alone, that once I shared my life with someone but fourteen years is a long time. Still, I do remember, especially during this month.

A happy commemoration is that March is also the anniversary of my becoming a homeowner. It’s amazing that those five years have sped by so quickly. It seems as if it wasn’t that long ago that I made this momentous and life changing decision. I have never once regretted buying the house — in fact, most days I look around in gratitude for this lovely, comfortable home.

March is also the month where my yard starts to come alive — the grass is greening, the tulips are poking through the winter-weary ground, and the larkspur are sprouting. I’m surprised to see the carpet of green larkspur sprouts this year — I thought I’d done a good job of collecting (and sharing!) the seeds — but I’m glad to see how eager they are to grow, especially since we’ve had so little moisture this winter. (The mountains grabbed it all before it could hit the plains.)

March is also the month I became a published author. Though it was a life-changing experience, to a certain extent, anyway, it wasn’t as much of a change as I had hoped. Still, it deserves a mention, especially now that I’ve pretty much given up writing. (I can’t even manage to write a single blog post every month, when once I wrote one ever day in addition to my fiction writing.)

I don’t often mention my birthday — I used to spend so much time online, used to post so much information, that I didn’t like the idea of my birth date being bandied about — but a birthday is certainly the anniversary of a life changing experience, perhaps the life changing experience, and that anniversary also occurs this month.

So far, all I’ve been doing to commemorate these momentous anniversaries is going outside every morning to see if any more tulips made an appearance, but with so many things to celebrate (though the anniversary of Jeff’s death isn’t something to celebrate, my surviving all these years and even thriving certainly is), I really ought to do something special. Well, posting this blog is special, but I should do something else I seldom do. Bake a cake maybe.

Wishing you a happy, momentous March!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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New Calendar

January 1, 2024 — Pat Bertram

When I broke my three-year streak of blogging every day, I knew days would go by without my coming here to give you an update on my life, but I never expected that months would go by. I thought I would do a quick something for Halloween. Then when that day passed, I certainly thought I would participate in Blog4Peace as I have done for the past decade, but that day, too passed unacknowledged. Then Thanksgiving . . . I have so much to be thankful for, such as relative good health (relative to my age, that is), relative happiness (relative to those days when I never thought I could feel any sort of lightheartedness again), and relative wealth (relative to those days when I feared I would end up on the street). Most of all, I’m grateful for my lovely little house and sometimes lovely yard — my home. But Thanksgiving passed without any acknowledgement from me. Just because I passed on writing about my gratefulness, however, it doesn’t mean that I passed on feeling it, though to be honest, I don’t need a special day to be thankful — I am thankful every single day for the blessings life has bestowed on me.

Then of course, there was Christmas. That should have been an easy day to blog since I always post the same thing on Christmas, a graphic wishing you all the great things the season has to offer as well as a list of how to say “Merry Christmas” in dozens of different languages, but no. Didn’t happen. I don’t even have the excuse of being too busy because I spent the day alone, though my dear neighbor brought me Christmas lunch.

Well, here we are on a new holiday — the first of the new year. I just finished going through last year’s calendar to transfer recurring events to the new calendar, and discovered that except for a few birthdays I want to remember, there are no recurring events. Apparently, I am starting this year from scratch. Not as much scratch as I did after Jeff died, of course, because now I have a home, friends, and a goal (to create a lovely mini park in my yard).

I’ve been phased out of my job helping care for an older woman. She’s okay, just doesn’t need me right now. And I’ve phased myself out of the last group I belonged to. At the beginning, I enjoyed the meetings and the events we hosted because we were a small congenial group of friends, but the group has grown and there are . . .  undercurrents . . . for lack of a better word. I haven’t enjoyed the group for a long time, but I stayed because I worried that with nothing social to do, I’d become a total hermit. Come spring, of course, when I’m outside, being social is not a problem. I have neighbors to visit with over the fence and across the street, and I’ve even made friends with a couple of passers-by. But winter? When I’m inside so much? Luckily, it hasn’t been a problem so far. I manage to get together with friends occasionally, and when my knees cooperate, I even go out walking a bit.

All this to say that so far, my calendar is empty. Not that I (or you!) need to worry — this is first day of that calendar. There might not be recurring events for now, but that leaves a lot of room for more spontaneous get-togethers.

Sometimes I wonder what I’m going to do with all my free time, but mostly I let the days fill themselves. Books, movies, games, texts, calls, an occasional invitation, perhaps even blogging if I get back in the habit. It sounds trivial, doesn’t it? I never wanted to steep myself in inconsequential matters; I always strived for a meaningful life. For now, though, having life is meaning enough.

Wishing you a happy new year and a calendar filled with hope, love, health, and all the good things life has to offer.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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Heartbreaking?

July 7, 2023 — Pat Bertram

For about three weeks, ever since my S.A.D. times passed, I’d been getting back into the feel of gardening. I’ve had more flowers this year than ever before, and they were doing well. I especially enjoyed the variation on a theme that was going on in my wildflower garden.

Daisies.

Cosmos.

Chamomile.

Zinnia.

I suppose it makes sense. All four of those flowers are members of the Asteraceae family, along with marigolds, sunflowers, dandelions, and lettuce.

Despite my ongoing frustration with trying to keep my lawn alive, I’d actually been having fun. I’ve been digging up a weed patch to extend my garden as well as digging up the swath were the grass died last year. I’d even cleaned up all the mess in the gravel and rock areas. (People always talk about ornamental rock as being a care-free landscape, but I find it even more troublesome than a lawn. I can’t use the leaf blower to blow the leaves and such off the gravel because the tool blows the rocks around rather than the leaves, and weeds are rampant because of all the rain we had this spring.)

And then came the night before last. Oh, my. Ferocious winds with a tornado-like swirl came charging in, bringing marble-size hail. Because of the swirling pattern, the storm hung around longer than such storms normally do.

When I got up the next morning, I was greeted by an immense mess. Plants were shredded, flowers destroyed, and the ground was covered with leaves and seeds and twigs from my neighbors’ trees. It was utterly heartbreaking.

At least, that’s what went through my mind at the time, but I quickly caught myself. Heartbreak was Jeff’s illness and his dying. Heartbreak was my brother’s struggles for mental stability and finally his death. Heartbreak was losing parents and friends and a way of life.

The damage to my yard was disappointing, of course, and frustrating. It’s also exhausting just thinking of all the cleanup work. But heartbreaking? No. In fact, I’m lucky — my house is fine and the windows are all intact, which can’t be said for everyone who endured the same storm.

On a rather ironic note, I’d been trying to figure out the best time to break up and transplant some of the clumps of daylilies. Apparently, the best time is whenever the flowers are finished blooming, and most of the flowers are gone now, the buds destroyed before they ever managed to bloom. Although I could transplant them now, it’s not a primary concern at the moment.

And on a happy note — the zinnias managed to survive quite nicely. A couple of flowers broke off, but the rest are growing cheerfully.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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House Anniversary

March 7, 2023 — Pat Bertram

Four years ago today, I bought my house. Whoa! I had to stop and reread that sentence because . . . four years, really? The years slipped by so easily, it doesn’t seem possible that I’ve lived here for four years already.

I encountered a few weird instances, such as getting a water bill for 19,000 gallons of water (they said it couldn’t possibly be their new electronic meter that was off because those meters, like all electronic devices, always work perfectly. Yeah, right.) And there were a few scary instances, such as my homeowner’s insurance doubling after it had already almost doubled the year before. But for the most part, buying this house was one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. It’s given me comfort and security, focus and confidence.

There’s still much for me to learn about owning a house, but little by little, I’m gaining the knowledge I need, or more specifically, I’m learning who to call to help me with anything that goes wrong. And I’m learning to garden and to take care of a yard. In fact, just this morning, my yard offered me the lovely gift of cheery yellow crocuses.

When I moved here, I had no idea how ideal this area would be for me. I came for the house, but I also found neighbors, friends, a library, a job, and so much more.

During all those years of being lost in grief after Jeff died, I held on to the hope of a something wonderful in my future because shouldn’t a supreme sorrow be balanced by at least a modicum of joy? And here it is, my something wonderful. My house. My home. For almost a decade, even though I had places to live, I always felt homeless. Jeff had been my home, and with him gone, I felt rootless. And now, I am putting down roots. Literal roots. Every time I plant something, I am both symbolically and actually putting down roots.

Being here gives me a sense of the ebb and flow of life. Not that I needed any reminders, considering how many people in my family have died the past decade or so, but still, I feel the flow of seasons. The life and death and rebirth of plants. And, unfortunately, the coming and going of friends. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve already lost friends due to moving, ill health, and even death.

I also feel the ebb and flow of my own life and am so grateful for the waves that washed me up on this particular shore. I have to smile at that the silliness of that metaphor. Not only is it trite, but it is inapt since there are no waves around here — just miles of empty prairie. But still, here I am, and with any luck, here’s where I will stay for many more years.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in gardening, grief, home, house, life. Tags: , , , . 6 Comments »

Leisure Time

January 27, 2023 — Pat Bertram

Today’s blog prompt is: what do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time? At first glance this looks like yesterday’s prompt about what you do for fun, but as I got to thinking about it, there are differences — although “enjoyment” is an aspect of fun, “fun” isn’t necessarily an aspect of enjoyment.

For example, yesterday was an enjoyable day. I walked to the grocery store to pick up a couple of things that I needed, and I saw a friend there. She offered me a ride, so we visited as we meandered the store and then continued chatting as she drove me home. Such surprise meetings with friends are always enjoyable. Later, friends brought dinner over here and we just sat and visited. It was too low key to be “fun,” but it was certainly enjoyable. (Though after a while, we had to make a concerted effort not to talk about homeowner’s insurance. Theirs went up as much as mine, and we were all still reeling from the shock of it. It got to be too depressing — and not at all enjoyable — to discuss the idiocies and unfairness of the insurance racket.)

Though perhaps that doesn’t answer the question. One definition of leisure time (I Googled it, of course!) is free time spent away from such activities as work, chores, errands, eating, and sleeping. If that’s the case, then yesterday’s enjoyable activities weren’t done in leisure time, since in the first instance, the enjoyment revolved around errands and in the second instance the enjoyment revolved around eating. Come to think of it, all of my visits with friends involve those activities. If I’m not hitching a ride with friends to go shopping, then we’re sitting around and eating. Still, by my simple definition (awake time not spent working), that’s still leisure time since all my awake time is free time except for the few hours a week I spend working. After all, I don’t have to do chores or errands at any given time; I can wait until they are not a burden but are rather enjoyable.

On days like yesterday, what I most enjoyed doing in my leisure time was visiting with friends, on other days, such as today, what I most enjoy doing is being by myself, not having to deal with problems, and not talking to anyone, not even cherished friends.

The way I figure it, my days are enjoyable either way.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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