I keep hoping that I will not care if anyone reads my book. But the truth is, of course, I will. I have already found myself feeling sad when I discover that there are those facing difficult circumstances of their own who are afraid to read this book for fear that the sadness of it will only intensify their own. I can understand that... yet, I feel that the expression of sadness told well, and the ultimate recognition that none of us will be immune from experiencing this part of the life process can help take the sharp edge of pain we are going through and meet it with courage and... what? Maybe even bliss. For the simple reason that we are human and we are not alone. We all bleed. I hope that the reasons for not reading A Reluctant Life will change and become the very reason you are drawn to it.
A Reluctant Life
This book represents a three-year period of time in which I was confronted by illness and the eventual death of the man I loved, my husband and the subsequent aftermath of dealing with that loss. I observed and examined a daily life now permanently changed. Many people have written their own heart-breaking stories. Some famous, some not well-known. Some not known at all. The exploration of how one goes through this particular life event, is what interests me. Does it remind us that as living creatures we can still entertain hope and renewal of what is most human about us, or does it cloak us in so much sadness that we cannot find our way back to the light. What is achievable? How do we learn to live again? These were the underlying essential questions in this book.