I did nearly stop writing it at that time, for fear that I was deemed to be pissing on Mark’s ashes. Or not grieving correctly. Or writing a load of old cobblers.
But I’m glad I picked myself up and continued. (I’ll admit it took a while, but hey – I’ve faced off worse than that.)
Writing about life after Mark’s death has been better therapy than any amount of money could buy.
I’ve made friends through it, and garnered support from the most unexpected places.
It’s provided me with time to sit and think about the human being I loved more than any other.
So thanks for reading and voting for me.
With special thanks to Him there, in the hat.