An anniversary of sorts

Tomorrow marks the one-month point after Morgan died. Four weeks ago, our nightmare began. Twenty-eight days ago, I contemplated offing myself while staring at Brent through tear-stained eyes as he slept.

But it's also that same amount of time that I've kept moving one small step forward. And even though it felt like I stumbled three steps back, my friends, familiy and co-workers forced me to shuffle ahead. And, so three days after Brent and I celebrated our four-year (dating) anniversary over a glass of wine and seafood, we'll also be remembering our little angel in Heaven.

That brings me to another epiphany. It's amazing how many other people - both women and men -- have told me their stories. People with whom I wouldn't normally socialize or share the deepest secrets inside my soul. Yet, they were so inclined to share their grief-ridden stories of lost little ones with me. People with whom I wouldn't spend more than 10 minutes in a conversation. People with whom I wouldn't associate outside of the newspaper's sterile, blah-ness walls.

I'll tell you one thing that I do know now. I don't assume the worst about people. I give people the benefit of the doubt. Because you never truly know what scars they hide.  OK -- I'm at least trying!