I always loved to run, and did 4-6 miles a day until I shattered my foot last January and spent 6-months in a leg cast, it was miserable, esp living in San Francisco. Walking up and down hills on crutches with a full cast and carrying groceries is not for the faint of will. I was beyond thrilled when the cast was removed, and while I cannot run again until a year elapses, was able to power walk on a cushion track. Within days of being ‘set free’, my brother died. No death in my life has hit me as hard or imploded my life as his has. I couldn’t stay in the City and moved to the beach. 

I went to sleep crying, woke up crying, didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, and cried for months. It is still impossible to believe this happened and it will always be an inexplicable tragedy. If he has to be gone it is a comfort that he is in the sea and walking there makes me feel connected. Since he died I have walked over 1,500 miles, equal to 1/2 way across the continent. I could walk much further every day than the 6-17 miles I do except for time…I have to work. But walking and breathing fresh air is the best antidote I know of to cope with this level of pain and disbelief.  

What I plan to do in his memory is fundraisers for animal rescue…which was an interest of his. I have major wineries as clients, and have chaired many large scale fundraisers in the past. At the moment I am planning two smallish fundraisers at two smaller wineries.  

And am looking forward to two rescue Golden Retrievers myself as soon as I find a home in my new town of Carmel and found a great rescue group: http://www.golden-rescue.org/

I’m so sorry for the loss of your husband but am sure he would be proud of what you are doing. 

In dealing with loss, each of us find that one common ground that unites us all.  Your honesty in writing of your feelings, the inexplicable sadness that can suddenly take over our whole being when we might least expect it, the stopping in our tracks, our wanting to "hibernate" when the feeling of the loss makes us feel so alone is one shared universally.  But it is not often expressed.

You take us through the thoughts, the stages of grief, and how you have made your own "strides" by running.  Each in our own ways must take those steps - perhaps baby steps at first tentatively placed - out our door and into the world again.  It isn’t easy and so often we find that others do not seem to understand the feelings that overtake us months, years later.  But if we are fortunate, particularly those who have "been there" are there for us, a comfort even in silent moments.

You have chosen your own route as we all must.  But in doing so, your running has also become part of the rehabilitation process.  For the activity - any activity that gets you out with people - is a test and then a release of sorts.  Yes, there is life when I thought it had ended.  There is the brilliant sunshine that is beaming a benediction down that seems to bless, that seems to say that while your lost one will always remain in your heart, you still do have the door opening slowly to a brighter world.

You have found your stride - and you have taken us along on your journey, one that we will not forget.

High five to you!  I too lost my husband/best friend 20 years ago. I was left with two small children, a business to run and home with a almond crop. It was a very difficult time for us. I did the best I could. At first, I burried my head in work.  Then I relized they my children were my priority and I need to be there with them. I sold the business, moved to the country and enjoyed what I had left of my husband, my children.  They were my strength. We were strong together.  I never remarried, my children were my focus.  We have been through lots of things in the last 20 years, good and bad, but mostly good.

We are all very independent women, but we hold tight.