67
Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light. —Brene Brown "Vista", oil on canvas, 18"x24" This past weekend was my 67th birthday. I recognize that some people obscure their age but each of my years has brought new friends, family, learnings, and outreach. As has been said, my more than 67 "laugh lines" have been well earned. And yet, my 60s have been my least favorite decade. It has looked like the following: I was 60 when Jim was diagnosed; 63 when he died. My 63rd and 64th years I grieved in the isolation of Covid. I often recall those years as my "Cinderella weeping at the fireplace stage"—and myself as the widow who didn't receive casseroles. At 64, I faced my birthday without him even though we had danced out of our wedding to the Beatles "When I'm 64". In my 63rd, 64th, and 65th years, I faced major financial and legal hurdles without Jim's steady mind to unta
