I Found Love Again at 60, Nearly a Decade After Losing My Husband—Then His Brother Stood Up at My Wedding and Yelled, “I Object!”

Love is a messy thing. Errors are made by individuals. Forgiving, on the other hand, is a low-key form of strength.

My time spent with Wade is not something I miss. I have no regrets about forgiving him. Additionally, I do not have any regrets about giving love another shot.

Age sixty is not the end of life. Or seventy. Or at any age.

Simply said, it shifts. When it comes to healing, sometimes forgetting is not the answer; rather, it is about choosing what you carry with you.