Five years after my husband’s d.eath, I accidentally broke a flower pot he had given me shortly before his d.eath: And what I found b.uried deep in the ground made me scream in horror.

head injury from the fall.

Everyone agreed: it was a terrible accident. Slippery tiles. Darkness. Bad luck.

I lived the next few years like someone underwater — moving, breathing, but never fully present. The only thing I protected with almost ritualistic care was a small yellow flower he had planted for me in a white ceramic pot shortly before he died.continue reading …