I didn’t know that grieving was a season of feeling a whole lot of god-awful feelings, of going to pieces over and over again, of being angry, walking around feeling sad, dealing with guilt, living in fear, going to hell and back, and then starting this horrible process all over again. If only, if only-if only, death had just stayed away, had gone to some other place, I cried every day. How different my life might have been, but death was right in my face, and all I could do was try to be brave and let the emotions have their own way. Put words on a page, read them out loud, and rant and rave, let myself go to a place where everything hurt like hell, and nothing made sense anymore. That’s how I survived the first year or so after my soulmate died. I wrote my way through a storm of gut-wrenching woe in poetic form, which later, I decided to share with the world in Feel the Feelings, a companion book of my memoir called Dancing with Death.