As soon as the calendar turns to January, June 1 has traditionally been a magnet for my attention and emotion since it became the day Ken died in 2011. But this year May 1 leapt out at me. And I was surprised to realize that May 1 marks ten years since Ken and I moved back to Chicago from Los Angeles. As impossible as it seems that Ken died at all--let alone five years ago--it seems even more so that it was ten years ago we packed up and raced from the West in three days in

A gigantic part of Ken's identity was his left leg...er...lack of one. After having it amputated below the knee when he was a teen was life-defining--and I've written before--it sent him down the path of becoming the most inspirational people I've ever known--let alone loved. "Feet" played a big part in his life, and in turn, mine. His one-man show  about his journey with cancer was called "My Foot Left"...as is his website that I haven't touched. He had a Grey's Anatomy ta

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end" are lyrics to a song I always found profoundly deep (and from which I took the name of this blog). There was a time when I had the blind luxury of pondering its meaning as I sang along in the car, but discovering I was living it during Ken's illness and death was a true FML moment. For a while I found the song--and these lyrics--taunting, reminding me of something so painful and obvious. Now, I just find them indiffe

As stated in my previous blog , the place I'm buying is smaller than my current apartment. I haven't really packed much yet. It's been a lot of going through things and deciding what will/will not be making the journey to the place/my new life with me. And therein lies the chafing emotional rub. Early in the process of looking at condos and deciding on one to put an offer on, I knew I needed to thin things out. Early attempts resulted in short circuits and overloads ending

I'm moving. Aside from the Christmas cheer in the air there is also one of excitement. For change. And an equal measure of dread for the same. The normal dread of change. As well as the other kind: the kind that finds me packing up and purging things from my life with Ken in the apartment where we lived together the longest. Saying goodbye to the place where we said goodbye. Not an easy task. I remind myself of lots of things. Constantly. This isn't--in fact--the place whe