House Anniversary

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.

Leisure Time

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.

A Storm with No Name

I don’t notice any difference between a named storm and a storm with no name. Either way, if you give it a name like “Winter Storm Iggy,” or just call it “snow,” it looks the same from my front door. And it shovels the same.

I truly didn’t think it would snow, and for a silly reason: I planted my wildflower seeds yesterday morning. I figured there was a good chance this storm was just a rumor as they so often are in this forgotten corner of the state, and that the seeds would blow away, but surprisingly, they are now buried under six inches of snow. The seeds might be overkill, since I did put some out there after the first snow had melted (it only took a month!) and before the next snow sprinkling came, but I don’t think it will matter. They are desert seeds, so they might not like the volatile weather we get here. And even if they can get acclimated to the weather, some of the seeds take a year or two to germinate.

I hadn’t expected to, but I am enjoying this snow. I have nothing I need to do, nowhere I need to go, so I figure, let it snow. Not that the snow cares what I think — it’s coming down anyway, as it has been since about 6:30 last night, and will continue as long as it wants whether I give it permission or not.

It will be interesting to see what affect these snows that come and stay will have on my yard this spring. It sure would be nice to see a plethora of blooms! And it would be nice to see if my defunct grass will green up without my having to replant it.

But for now, the white is nice.


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.

Reducing Clutter

Today’s blog prompt, courtesy of WordPress: Where can you reduce clutter in your life?

There are a couple of places where I have things to clear out. My garage, of course, where I’ve stored boxes of belongings that I am either not ready to dispose of or that I don’t quite know what to do with or that perhaps I might use someday, such as my camping gear. My kitchen cabinets, especially the high ones where I’ve stored appliances I never use but that I keep just in case. For example, the blender. It’s not something I use, but it’s one of those items that really has no substitute, so I’ve been keeping it. I have a Magic Bullet now, which is a small blender, so I could get rid of the stored one, but since it’s not in the way, there’s no rush.

Despite the dubious disposition of these items, they are not really clutter. Clutter signifies untidiness and things lying around, impeding movement, reducing effectiveness, or wasting space, and everything I use on a regular basis — as well as things I don’t — are all neatly stowed away.

The place that is cluttered and where I definitely need to reduce that clutter is in my mind. I tend to mentally “rehearse.” For example, when the temperature gets below zero, my water meter goes haywire. Last year the water company charged me for 19,000 gallons of water I never used. I tried to get them to remove the charge, but they insisted the electronic meter was not at fault, that I had an intermittent leak or that I unknowingly left the water running or that someone stole water, none of which were true. I got tired of trying to get them to listen to me, so I paid the bill. Meantime, they raised the rates, so this year I have no inclination to let it go. The bill covering the period where the temperature got way below zero is due at the end of the month, and I find myself mentally rehearsing all the things I can think of to try to get them to realize the truth — that despite what they (and the company who sold them the meters) say, the meter is at fault.

I also have a tendency to obsess over things I cannot control, and so the same thoughts clutter my mind until a new one comes along to push the old obsession out of the way. Getting the recent bill for my homeowner’s insurance made the overage on the water meter seem like pennies. I budgeted for a hefty increase in the insurance, but this bill is exorbitant — an increase of 50%. Yikes. I’m trying to find a cheaper insurance, but I did that last year, and found nothing better than what I have, so now I clutter my mind with thoughts of how to pay the bill. Even more mind-cluttering are thoughts of future bills with additional increases.

I am doing a lot better about just letting things go, letting the clutter drain away, so I’m sure I’ll soon be able to declutter my mind of these things, too. At least I hope so. It’s much better — and more peaceful — to have an uncluttered mind.

As for the rest of it — my unused things are neatly packed away, so I’m not in any hurry to figure out what to do with them, though as I get older, I will have to make more of an effort to get rid of those stored items.

What about you? Where can you reduce clutter in your life?


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.

Small Chores

This was a morning of small chores — replacing the furnace filter, cleaning long-unworn clothes out of a drawer to make room for more clothes that will probably end up as unworn, starting my car and letting it run for a few minutes, trying to shovel the driveway. Yikes — that last one was hard. When the snow was fresh, I shoveled the sidewalk, but since I don’t use that short driveway from the sidewalk to the street, I didn’t bother to shovel it, mostly because by the time I finished the sidewalk, I was exhausted. I’d forgotten that since it’s a slope made of concrete, the melting snow runs down the driveway to accumulate in the gutter. Because the drainage in this town is ludicrous at best, the melted snow just stays there until the temperature falls and then it becomes a bed of ice, making it impossible for me to get from my place to the street.

Unfortunately, since the snow has been around a couple of weeks, it was mostly frozen solid, so I wasn’t able to remove much of the snow. Not that it matters, I suppose — even if I had managed to shovel the snow, it will eventually snow again (Thursday, perhaps, or maybe Monday if the forecast can be believed) so the gutters along this street and especially in front of my house will not be navigable for quite some time.

It’s too bad I didn’t get my wildflower seeds sown before it snowed — with the snow hanging around so long, it would have given the seeds a perfect beginning, but there was no way for me to know snow was coming since the forecasters didn’t even know. Still, winter (the actual calendar season of winter, not the season of winter weather) has just begun, so perhaps after this snow thaws (assuming it ever does), there should be time to plant this winter.

I must admit, I like the snow hanging around. I can’t see my grass so I don’t worry about it. (Out of sight, out of mind, as the adage says.) I’m hoping by spring, when/if the lawn greens up, I can adopt a new attitude and adapt to whatever comes because I certainly don’t want to worry about my yard. There’s plenty of more important things to worry about, though to be honest, I don’t want to worry about anything. Unfortunately, not worrying is easier to say than to do, but I’m trying.

I’m especially trying to be kind to myself and not beat myself up if I do or don’t do something I should or shouldn’t do. Luckily, after I finished my chores this morning, I took a walk to the library, so even if I did want to feel bad about not walking, I don’t have to because I did. Make sense? Well, it did to me.


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.


It snowed last night — a lot! (6 inches with drifts up to 12 inches.) And I was not at all prepared. Though how could I be? The forecasters offered only a 40% chance of snow, and if it did snow, was supposed to be just a dusting, like all the other snows we we’ve had this year.

It’s too bad I didn’t know that it would snow so much — yesterday would have been a good opportunity to sow my wildflower seeds, but with high winds also in the forecast, I figured the seeds would scatter all through the neighborhood if it . Still, it’s early in the season. I’m sure there will be plenty of time to plant the seeds.

The other thing I would have done if I had known it would snow so much is to take my heavy-duty ergonomic snow shovel out of the garage and bring it into the house. (What makes is ergonomic is the bent handle, though why that makes a difference, I don’t know. It certainly makes the shovel unwieldy!) Luckily, I keep a plastic scoop shovel in the house. It’s not really a snow shovel — looks more like a coal shovel — but it does the job in an emergency.

It seems funny to be writing this — ever since I’ve stopped blogging every day, whenever I have an insight about something, I just let the thought (deep or not so deep) go unrecorded. It’s a shame, in a way. Every once in a while, someone will leave a comment on an older post, and since I don’t know what they are referencing, I have to go back and read the item. Often, I am surprised by my perspicacity. Now, though, since I am out of the habit of blogging, I lose those insights. Perhaps that’s not a bad thing. Maybe just having the thought is enough, even if I don’t remember or record it.

Sometimes I think I should get back to the discipline of daily blogging, but, like the rest of my thoughts lately, I let it go.

Still, you never know. Obviously, this snow goaded me into writing, and I’m sure other things will come along to goad me, too.


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.


It’s surprising to me that after owning this house for more than three years, there are still many things I don’t know. With any luck, any things I don’t know will be only small issues and that I’m not overlooking anything major. Still, there are new things to learn rather frequently. Although it has nothing to do with the house itself, I’m continuing to learn how to take care of a yard, and that could be a lifelong endeavor.

But even in the house itself, there are still things to learn, most recently, the doorbell. The original doorbell that is wired into the house doesn’t work, and a previous owner set up a wireless doorbell right above the defunct one. Delivery people generally press the old bell instead of the new one when leaving a package, so I’m used to listening for noises on my porch rather than waiting for a ring. The other day, a couple of friends came to visit. I didn’t hear the doorbell, but I did heard scuffling outside the door, so I went to let them in. I mentioned about not using the defunct doorbell, but they said they rang the new one.

I pushed the button, and sure enough, the doorbell didn’t work. (It’s not that I disbelieved them, it’s that I wanted to see the problem for myself.) Thinking that maybe the outlet the chime was plugged into wasn’t working, I plugged it into a different outlet. Still didn’t work.

I shrugged it off, thinking maybe it was time to get a new doorbell, but my friends thought perhaps there was a battery that needed to be replaced. There wasn’t a battery in the chime part, and there was no easy way to check the doorbell itself, so we ripped it off the doorframe. My friend managed to open it, and sure enough, there was a battery. Luckily I had the right battery (one of those nickel-sized batteries) as well as some thick two-sided tape to replace the now-working doorbell.

It just goes to show how few people come to visit because I have no idea how long the doorbell hasn’t been working. Obviously, it wasn’t a major issue, but still, it did surprise me that there was one more battery to replace that I didn’t know about. I knew about smoke alarms, of course, and I quickly learned about the thermostat battery and the carbon monoxide battery. The low-battery chirping from the carbon monoxide detector came on it the middle of the night once, and since it sounded exactly like the smoke alarms, I got up and changed the batteries on all the smoke alarms, and still that annoying sound kept me awake. I don’t remember how it finally dawned on me to check the carbon monoxide detector, but I do remember unplugging it from the outlet. Blessed release! I went back to sleep, and I am ashamed to admit that I never replaced the battery and put that detector back. I know how important it is, but I get tired of always changing batteries. Maybe someday . . . Or even better, right now. (Okay, I did it; the carbon monoxide detector is plugged in again.)

It makes me wonder if there will be more surprises. I know there will be problems like appliances that need repair, pipes that will freeze (though I do leave a faucet dripping when the temperatures dip too low in the winter) and any number of other things. (I’ve already had someone come deal with a toilet ring seal that needed to be replaced, a washer that wouldn’t spin, pipe malfunctions, and various other breakdowns.) But surely, after all this time, there aren’t any more hidden batteries or other house details for me to be aware of.

If there are, I suppose I’ll learn about them the same way I’ve learned about everything else — when they stop working.


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.

Midnight Drama

In the light of day, the goings on of last night seem rather silly and insignificant, but in the dark, after being jerked out of a deep sleep, it was drama enough — and trauma enough — for me. What makes it so much worse, is that it’s my own fault.

I’ve been trying to keep to a schedule to change the batteries in my smoke alarms every year, but this year, I let the date pass, though I thought about doing the job every day, and even wrote a note reminding myself to change the batteries in the smoke alarms, but still I procrastinated. It’s a difficult task for me — getting out the ladder, climbing a few rungs, and then trying to get to the old batteries to change them. It’s also ridiculous because there are so many smoke alarms in this very small house. One in each bedroom, one outside the kitchen, one in the hallway, as per code, but that makes four smoke alarms within just a few feet of each other. A fifth smoke alarm is on the ceiling of the enclosed porch. That’s a lot of ladder climbing for an older woman with bum knees!

So last night, I wasn’t surprised — just adrenaline-rush startled — to be awakened by an insanely loud metallic chirp. I lay there for a minute hoping somehow I’d dreamed the noise, but nope. There it was again. A brief screech from the smoke alarm in my bedroom.

Not wanting to go out to the detached garage to get the six-foot ladder, I got my stepstool and climbed on to the top rung, thinking all the while how idiotic that was. I mean, there I was, half asleep, heart pounding, and rather past my prime for such shenanigans. Still, I managed to change the batteries. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the intermittent screech. I closed the bedroom door, put in earplugs, and went to sleep on my daybed, but I was too adrenalized to be able to fall asleep. Besides, muted as it was, I was still aware of the chirp.

Knowing I wouldn’t sleep (and knowing I desperately needed to sleep off a cold that was inching its way into my system), I got out of bed and went online to see what the problem could be. Apparently, after taking out the batteries and before putting in the new ones, I was supposed to push the “test” button for fifteen seconds to clear the charge.

Sighing to myself, I went outside, unlocked the garage, got the ladder (I wasn’t about to try balancing again on the top rung of the stepstool), got a second set of new batteries (just in case I’d put the old ones back in the alarm), and then followed directions. And the thing still chirped.

But just once. Whew!

As I said, the midnight drama (actually it was closer to 1:30 if I want to be accurate) doesn’t seem that bad now, but it sure was a problem last night. Obviously, it was less of a problem than it would have been if the alarm had sounded because of a fire (for which I am grateful), but it certainly wasn’t fun, that’s for sure.

Now I’m off to change the other batteries, though I really don’t want to.

Hmmm. Perhaps I could put it off for another day or two . . .


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.

The Big Picture

I spend so much time focused on the individual aspects of my garden, both the delightful things like the flowers that bloom, the butterfly that flitted through the yard one day, the hummingbird that sipped nectar from my hanging plant, then stared at me through the window as if to thank me, as well as the undelightful things like stinkhorn mushrooms, encroaching weed grasses, and swaths of brown lawn, that sometimes I forget to look at the big picture. Well, today, I was skirting the house after my morning stint of watering, and the “big picture” suddenly took my breath away. I went inside for my camera, stood at the back door and shot this photo. Wow! This is my back yard? Really?

Even the left side of the red pathway (as you are viewing the photo) looks good although the green comes from freshly mowed weeds. The gorgeous greensward just to the left of the sidewalk is the area that I dug up last fall for a wildflower garden, and since there was sod left over, we decided to sod that area, too. I felt silly for having done all that work for no reason, but as it turns out, it was essential. That’s the best patch of grass on the whole property. The worst patches are where they simply laid the sod over the existing weeds and weedy grasses. The grass in those areas started out bright green, but now have now surrendered their precarious place to the original occupants. With any luck, this fall when the weeds die off, I can reverse the trend, but who knows? I sure don’t. Despite my pretty flower photos, I’m still pretty much of a neophyte gardener. (A neophyte photographer, too, but it looks as if I am more accomplished than I really am because I only post the photos that turn out. The rest end up in the trash.)

The green on the right side of the sidewalk is what’s left of the wildflower garden. It looks green but there is a lot of white from the copious alyssum. It’s called a carpet of snow, and from a certain angle you can see all the white, but obviously not from the angle the back yard photo was taken.

I friend had once suggested that I take a photo from the same place every day so I could see the changes, but I never did. For most of my tenure here, things were in such a state of disarray that there was no day I thought would a perfect time to start such a project. I realize, of course, that was the point, but I also had no concept of how the yard would turn out or even if it would turn out. For all I knew, there would forever be a heap of junk in the middle of a field of weeds. (This particular junk pile is just to the left of what is now the sidewalk. It isn’t really junk, just all the stuff that had to be moved to make room for the new garage.)

The only photo I have of the original yard is one from the opposite angle, looking toward the house instead of away from it. The old garage is where the raised garden now is, and the new garage is in front of where the carport was, which gives me a rather large yard!

I do have a few photos of the back yard that I took as work was being done, which gives me (and you) an idea of how much has changed over the years. Oddly, going by these older photos, it looks as if this yard was just a patch of dead dirt, but that was seasonal. Come spring and a little rain, and yikes . . . so many very tall weeds!

The above photo was taken in January, shortly after the old garage was torn down and the fence put up. The gazebo was erected over the existing concrete pad that once was in front of the garage. Eventually, the garage was built in front of the double gate, and the gate was removed. The brown bushes next to the pedestrian gate had to be dug up, and they were replanted in the angle formed by the sidewalk and the concrete pad. Looking at this photo, I am amazed at all that has been done in two-and-a-half years, not just what the builders did, but what nature and I did. No wonder I feel as if I work hard on the yard. I do!

It just goes to show that in gardening, as in life, it’s good to focus on the details, because that’s where the work is done — one detail at a time — but it’s even better to stop occasionally and look around to see all that you have accomplished.


Pat Bertram is the author of intriguing fiction and insightful works of grief.

Yard Care

With all the trouble I’ve been having with my lawn, I still don’t regret having the sod laid and all the work I’ve been doing to keep it alive and healthy and weed-free. I’m winning part and losing part, but I’m not sure if there would have been a better choice considering what I started with.

My contractor suggested that I rock the whole weed-infested yard if I didn’t want to have to take care of a lawn, with perhaps a tree in the center of the front yard. I opted out of doing the whole yard, though perhaps half the yard has been covered with rock, such as the ornamental gravel protecting the foundation of my house and garage and filling in the right of way between the sidewalk and the street, as well as all the paths and sidewalks around my property.

The funny thing about gravel is that it isn’t as care-free as one would expect. Since a plastic weed barrier is illegal in parts of Colorado (something to do with interrupting the natural seepage of rain water), what’s left are various grades of a fabric weed barrier. Even with the heaviest option, the Bermuda grass is so aggressive, it pokes right through the fabric. And when it doesn’t poke through, it winds its way from way under the fabric to the outer edges, where — because of that exceptionally long root — it’s impossible to pull or dig out. Then there are the leaves and twigs and other things that fall on the rock. They all have to be blown off, otherwise, they disintegrate and sink down below the rock where they decay, turn acidic, and eventually destroy the fabric. There are lots of other weeds and things that grow in the dirt between the rocks, which they are easy to enough to pull up because of the shallow roots, but when it rains, there could be dozens if not hundreds of those seedlings to gather.

As I mentioned yesterday, I considered turning my yard into a wildflower field — like a mini prairie — but that option brings its own problems, such as weeds and grass that choke out the wildflowers. Eventually you end up with what you started with — Bermuda grass and weeds.

Considering how well Bermuda grass does here, I could have done what a couple of my neighbors do and just water and mow the Bermuda grass. It makes a nice enough lawn for the summer and lies fallow most of the year. Unfortunately, my yard was more weeds than grass, so it would have taken years of hard work to turn the yard into a lawn. Of course, I could have just let it go like one of my neighbors does, and occasionally mow the weeds before they get knee-high, as I did the first years I was here, but even that option isn’t as carefree as it sounds. A good rain, and suddenly, the weeds are shoulder-high, with stalks as thick and tough as saplings.

The only truly care-free yard I ever knew was the place where I’d rented a room before I moved here. The back yard was all concrete, an immense partially covered patio. The front yard was a lush lawn with flowers by the house that the owner never lifted a finger to care for. Perhaps saying it was care-free is a misnomer because, although the owner didn’t do any work, he had an automatic sprinkler system and a hired gardener who came every week and worked for at least a couple of hours, sometimes a lot more.

Come to think of it, I might as well be out there caring for a lawn and my various gardens. It’s as good a way to spend my time as any other.


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.