My Animoto Video

My Animoto Video I created this book trailer for my memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal. After the sudden death of my husband in 2000, the pain of grief pulled me into a very dark and lonely place. By sharing my story, I offer hope and inspiration that you too can build a meaningful life and find happiness again.

My memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal, is on Steve Brock's "Best of the Bunch" March Recommended Book List on delphiforum. Hoping my story reaches out and helps others through their loss. A reader who recently lost a loved one wrote, "A GREAT book, even if you haven't lost a loved one. You'll laugh, cry and learn how to live life all over again." Available on Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

Twenty-Eight Snow Angels Interview

Check out the interview about my memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal. Heidi Holtan of KAXE 91.7 fm radio in Northern Minnesota interviewed me for their Realgoodwords segment. She said what she liked about my book was that it portrayed "the real concepts of grief and that there were not many books like it." The interview addresses the fog of grief in the aftermath of the sudden death, how I coped with normal routines and what helped me through the difficult time. Go to to listen to the interview Twenty-Eight Snow Angels is available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback, Barnes and Noble, Outskirts Press at

Angels in Flight

Sitting alone in a motel room in northern Minnesota tonight brings back memories of traveling alone after the death of my husband. Three weeks after his funeral, I was hired for a new position as a literary coach in a school in Saint Paul. I had taught elementary students for thirty years and thought a job change would help pull me through the grief. When I applied for the job, I didn't realize I would be flying all over the United States to training sessions and conferences. On the first trip to Washington, D.C. in August of 2000, I remember pulling my suitcase into the hotel room, the door clicking closed behind me and staring into the corners of the empty room wondering why my husband wasn't there with me. Thankfully, I was blessed with the guidance of two very supportive team members. Like angels, they nurtured me and helped me become a seasoned traveler. Now when I travel to promote my books, when the hotel door clicks behind me I smile as I feel their presence and thank God for putting them in my life.

the Independent Life

Learning to do things on your own is a survival skill all women should acquire. When you're suddenly left alone after the death of a spouse or a divorce you'll need a sense of confidence that you can face challenges alone. Take time now to eat at a table for one in a restaurant, fly off to a far away city or venture out on a solo driving trip. Believe me you'll be glad you did. I recently met a woman at a conference who said, "I never travel without my husband. I don't think I could do it alone." Expand your solo adventures and gain confidence in your independence now, and you'll be better prepared to face the challenges of life alone. More thoughts on independence in Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal

What the Death of My Husband Taught Me

I never thought when I said "I do" in 1972, that I would be a widow at 53. Months after my husband's sudden death, I discovered grief takes a huge amount of energy, time and hard work. I realized along the way, that you'll have ups and downs, but keep going. The loss shifts your life as you knew it. Give yourself time to conceive a new life as a woman and give it birth. Be kind to yourself. Cry when you feel the tears and sleep when you need rest. If you have a career, give it your best shot every day you can. If you need to take a day off, so be it. Maintain your connections with family, friends and your physician. Remember, your family and friends mean well, but won't always know how to help. Stay strong in your faith even when you're yelling at God. Remember, your loved one's death has catapulted you into the painful, yet creative process of rediscovering who you are. Support will come in different shapes and sizes. Watch for those angels weaving in and out of your life.

Hope, Inspiration and the Power of Angels

This excerpt is from my memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal. The story is one of hope, inspiration and the power of angels.

John and I met in 1971 at the Rusty Nail, a smoke-filled bar in Brook-
lyn Center on the outskirts of Minneapolis. The Nail was a popular
hang out for the bar hopping crowd. Bar hopping, back in the seven-
ties, was like date surfi ng on the net, but you did it in a car, often your
best friend’s car. On any given night after working out at the European
Health Spa my college friend and I piled into her Chevy Nova. Driving
from bar to bar, we looked for the best band, cheapest drinks and the
highest number of single guys ready to invite us onto the dance fl oor.
In the noisy bar we sipped vodka gimlets and black Russians, praying
the band would pound out a Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young or Creedance
Clearwater Revival song, and some hot guy would waltz over to our
table and ask us to dance. Fast-paced songs gave us a chance to check
out a guy with a minimal amount of small talk or body contact.

On that night of January 15, the band cranked out a high-energy
song. From the back corner of the bar John wandered over to our table,
leaned down and asked me to dance. His blue eyes fl ashed as the loud
music bounced and rocked us back and forth. When the song ended,
we hesitated on the dance fl oor while the band decided what to play
next. A soft chord rolled off the lead guitar player’s fi ngers as the band
switched to a waltz. We held out our arms and folded into each other.
A week later, we found ourselves on a local skating rink enjoying
our fi rst date layered in long underwear, jeans and parkas. We enjoyed
the romantic evening with its bright stars and our breath forming clouds
as we circled the rink in conversation. We talked about our childhood
growing up in North Minneapolis and our life as University of Minne-
sota students, living at home.

Skating was followed by coffee at Howard Johnson’s restaurant on
Central Avenue. We slid into a booth and ordered black coffee. John
had recently moved back to Minnesota from California and was un-
employed. Out of his pocket, he pulled a small plastic bag of choco-
late chip cookies. He grinned at me. “Looking for a job and living at
home isn’t all bad. It has its rewards. My mother baked the cookies.” I
reached into the plastic bag. Great cookies, I thought, as I bit into the
soft chocolate morsels, And great guy, too.

When we said “I do” in June 1972, the possibilities of our life to-
gether were unimaginable and endless. As the recessional music car-
ried us down the aisle in front of family and friends, our heads held
visions of never-ending love. We were committed to our vows and to
each other. “Until death do us part” is what we said and we meant it.
We imagined our marriage would be like Ozzie and Harriet Nelson’s
in the 1950s—two children, a two-story home, and nightly evening
meals around the dining room table. Our family values, middle-class
backgrounds, along with the black-and-white television programs, de-
fi ned our image of marriage.

I had never lived away from home until I married John. During my
four years at the University of Minnesota, my younger sister, Mary, and
I shared a tiny bedroom. My little sister often fell asleep to the sound
of crickets chirping outside our bedroom window and the plink-plink-
plink of my Smith Corona manual typewriter as I typed term papers
late into the night. Sharing a room with my sister was a temporary
arrangement. Sharing an apartment with my husband was a commit-
ment to a long and happy future together. John and I eased into our
marriage like a slow dance to James Taylor’s “I’ve Got A Friend.”