It wasn't supposed to end this way is a story about love and loss 27 years in the making. After caring for two husbands and her mother for 22 years, Reese spent the next five years documenting the relationship and passing of her second husband, the love of her life, and her always loving and ever charming mother-both of were dying at the same time.
Each day challenged Reese's strength, and at times her patience, yet each day was an opportunity to laugh with her quick-witted husband and her wickedly funny mother while finding ways to honor the love they shared.
Once the pain of loss began to lift, Reese realized she was no longer a caregiver, so she set out to redefine her purpose in life. Using her business planning skills, she created a process to transform the pain in her life to a future full of meaning.
Hers is a love story. Her process to redefine purpose provides a path out of grief. Both are within the cover of her book, It wasn't supposed to end this way.
|Product dimensions:||5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.46(d)|
About the Author
I would tell you of the careers I have had-consulting to executives, managing health programs-but these jobs matter not. In the end, life matters. I have lost two husbands. The last, and the love of my life, passed in May of 2011 from leukemia. I cared for a truly delightful mother battling Parkinson's and dementia in my home. She was put on hospice a month before my husband died, and lasted another 18 tough months.
Perhaps I had not realized I had been a caregiver for most of 22 years between my husbands and my mother. It was an honor in so many ways, but once Bob and "Miss Elma" passed, I had to find a new purpose in life to pull me through the grief. Writing became my passion. Helping others experiencing grief was my hope.
I now speak at grief workshops and grief groups. I facilitate one of the country's Death Cafés, a discussion group that tackles the necessary topics surrounding the many issues of death and dying. My writing is used by some hospice companies for staff training.
Facilitating writing classes appeals to my creative side, and allows me to help others. Yet, I also need fun, the type that plants a smile across my face. When I'm not speaking about grief or helping people improve their writing, I lead a Senior Flash Mob with dancers between 56 and 84 years of age. We show up in malls, on campuses, and even on television.
So, when my smile tries to jump off my face, I let it go. I take the time to feel my grief. I feel the loss. And I honor my loved ones. Afterwards, I get back to creative writing, helping writers, and supporting fellow grievers. Then I dance. Funny thing, once the music starts, that smile always comes back home.