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gratitude

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Journaling about grief four years later

Journal Entry: Saturday, May 22, 2021 Happy Birthday to my dear husband, Paul Kwasniewski, who would be 74 years old today. I wish he were out here on the back porch sitting next to me. If he were still alive, we probably would have gone out to breakfast and planned to share dinner with the girls and Joe and his family. As it is, Em and I talked about sharing dinner while writing down the many quirky sayings he often used that reflected his great sense of humor and made us laugh, and all the more now in his absence. It has been more than four years since he left us. When people ask me how grief affects my life now, the best response I can offer is that the overall malaise that hovered like a dense cloud cover on an otherwise sunny day has lifted. But grief still comes…

Dad’s passion for music brings healing

While having dinner a few weeks ago with my editor friend, Leslie, I told her about the impromptu concert my dad gave to residents on his floor the night before. Still awed by what I’d witnessed, I explained how his passion for music impacted a woman who suffers from dementia. I couldn’t hide my excitement as I described how his big heart and booming voice were transforming the retirement community he now calls home. Leslie thought the story would be perfect for her client’s website. She was working with them to prepare a bank of articles around the healing power of the arts. My dad’s story would demonstrate music’s potential to restore a measure of health to the elderly. I wrote the story the next day, and it was published at Ford Better World yesterday. I can’t wait for you to read it here. Secret to a long life My sisters and…

Design Mom published my story!

I am so excited about this event that I had to share it with you all as soon as I could. I’ve been reading the blog Design Mom for a couple of years now. It’s packed with great information for women who are raising young children and who appreciate design. I love how Gabrielle Blair

Why I love January

I don’t consider myself a poet, but I have journals full of free verse from my high school creative writing classes. I found it to be a relaxing pastime and an effective vehicle for expressing the jumbled-up emotions of my teen years. Every once in a while I am inspired to write poetry, as was the case following a visit with a dear friend who is more than 100 years old. She is a remarkable woman with a sharp mind, quick wit and wealth of wisdom earned through tough times and an insatiable appetite for reading and learning. A woman of faith and a writer herself, she has touched many a soul with her empowering presence, listening ear, and ability to cut to the heart of a matter with grace and love. I wrote For January as an expression of my gratitude for the privilege of knowing this very special…