It’s just days before the anniversary of the date that both my daughter and husband passed. I am vacationing away from the bitter cold and snow in New York, yet I’m not fully here. My thoughts are a distraction—they torment me. I am unable to find the calm until I stop resisting and cry my tears.

And after the tears, I experience a stillness. In the quiet I see a heart in the air. I focus on that heart and I begin to feel the warm breeze and sense the break in the clouds. In the sunny embrace of a clearing blue sky, I can feel how much they would love it here.

I start remembering what they loved, what I love, and what we loved together. The connection comes through the love, not the pain. What I need to remember is the good, not the painful memories.

I realize the need to balance my suffering with what brings me comfort, and not feel obliged to do only that which makes me sad. I need to honor my loved ones through doing what they enjoyed and what ultimately might bring me comfort.

For all the anguish, pain and suffering I’ve known, I deserve a mandatory week of comfort. Though I know it’s easier said than done, I aspire to make anniversaries a Comfort Day, as opposed to a day in which all the pain rises to the surface.

Wishing that each of you find that warm place of comfort and love inside of you…