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One of my most painful, hurtful, appalling experiences occurred the first time I went to the grocery store after Robby died . . . Every shelf, every aisle reminded me of my dead son. Either the item was something he hated or something he loved. Green beans and hot dogs and peanut butter sent stabs of pain through me.
~ Harriet Sarnoff Schiff
I finished redoing the living room today. Six weeks ago, I ordered two love seats to replace the couch and love seat Jane and I bought when we built this house just over twenty years ago. I’d finally figured out that even with new slipcovers, those two pieces set me off every time I entered the room.
In the process of getting everything in the room balanced—I’ve never studied feng shui, but I know when things are arranged right I feel better than when they aren’t—I decided to remove the next level of knick-knacks that I have kept out as reminders of the couple we were. Fifty-five months and 15 days is long enough to keep the two doll-sized mugs embossed with "My Sweetheart” out where they can remind me every day of what I’ve lost.

















