I was shocked to realize the 10th anniversary of this blog was approaching. Though I’d long anticipated having a blog for years, the idea of this one turning 10 fell off my radar. Not surprising though, eh? It’s been quite a year.

When I started writing this blog in 2010, it served primarily one purpose: to distract me from my husband Ken’s terminal cancer diagnosis and subsequent death. But something happened along the way, and it morphed into the only way I was able to cope with it.

I love what this blog gave me: a forum to express what I was going through and give others a window into my mind’s eye and let them know I was okay–maybe to help others who might have been experiencing the same thing. As I look back through the published posts, I’m surprised that I only wrote 6 posts about what we were going through while I was alive—while he was home in hospice care. But after he died, it seems I became prolific, publishing 60 posts in 2011 and 70 in 2012 before settling into my 10-20 posts per year. This post will be my 282nd.

This blog was my best friend and confidante (though not great at keeping a secret for obvious reasons). I relied on it. I leaned on it hard to help me pull myself through the murk of grief and sadness and guilt and confusion. It’s a place where no one else’s voice mattered. It was just me, a blank screen, and a flashing cursor. It was my mirror. My confessional. My hope chest.

I’ve never re-read any of the entries about Ken. I will someday. But pursuing the entries, I can see where my grip on the virtual pen loosened up. And I began not just saying what I’m feeling, but playing with how I said it. This blog helped peace settled over me, easing my spirit since those days when I took one day at a time, never lifting it too high to see the future because I didn’t like what I saw—or didn’t see—in it.

A lot of things have changed since I started this blog a decade ago.

• Ken died on June 1, 2011, but in time I realized the important parts of him—the parts of him I still need—are right where they have always been: in my heart.
• I bought my first home in 2014, which led to some deep and rich friendships with my neighbors.
• I’ve taken a couple of great international trips to Costa Rica and Iceland.
• In 2018 my dad passed away and my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. My family has stuck close together to handle the burden of these experiences. But we also understand the gifts disguised within them—most importantly, our ability to love and support one another without limit. My sister and family are doing great.
• And lastly, the story yet to be written is I’ve fallen in love again. All the experiences that make me who I am led to meet someone wonderful. It’s a great reminder that anything is possible.

This blog continues to morph. It’s a reflection of me. It has always been.