"Letting Go: A Series" The books on my bookshelf represent my passions and dreams books read and unread centering clay button history diagnostic man...

Too often, we define ourselves by our jobs in this world: "I work at X," "I'm so and so's mother, ____'s wife." But when those relationships have expired, matured or evaporated, what's left?

All too often, we can't find the words to say goodbye. Can we stand to gaze into the heart of our loss, the preciousness of what we are losing, and not look away?

The only thing I have ever done that came close to being as scary as jumping out of that airplane was saying goodbye to my husband before each deployment.

Our distaste for good-byes is a reminder of our unfathomable mutual dependence. An individual self cannot come into being, let alone endure, absent the recognition of others.