Just over a year after my mom died, my boyfriend of three years walked out — carrying his deodorant and phone charger. And then, I was grieving all over again.
I'm still making sense of things after my boyfriend ended his life. But one thing is clear: The need to share the music he never got to play for the world.
Philip Seymour Hoffman was my longtime producing partner. After his death, I embraced an open state of mind that's led me to places I'd been wanting to go for years.
My teenaged son stored his bike after a friend's fatal riding accident. One year on, I still wanted to hold onto him tight but was also ready for him to move forward.