Dear Reader,

Thank you for being here. If you’ve found your way to this space, it likely means that you want to have an authentic connection or maybe some solitary reflection about the tougher aspects of love  — the declining health of a loved one, the end-of-life decisions, the final letting go —  whether that be of a partner, a parent, or a dear friend. 

I created this space and wrote my memoir, Dancing in the Face of Death, because I wanted to offer what I needed myself: a voice that tells the truth about loving, caregiving, courage, and prolonged grief, as well as the impossible beauty of holding someone through their final chapter.

For more than forty years, I shared my life with a special woman who deepened and expanded my world. When she was diagnosed with the behavioral variant of Frontotemporal Dementia (FTD), everything I knew about devotion, courage, and companionship was challenged, and our life partnership shifted. I became her caregiver, her protector, her memory, and her mirror. And in those roles, I discovered a depth of love I had never imagined — a love that solidified me, stretched me, broke me open, and ultimately remade me.

My background as a psychologist gave me the tools to understand her changed personality and behavior. But being her emotional and physical caregiver taught me something far deeper: that authentic love is both the simplest and the bravest act we will ever commit. That even in mental decline, there can be dignity, humor, and profound tenderness. And that grief is not the loss of love, but rather love’s continuation beyond the physical form. 

In sharing my story, my hope is not to teach, but to connect. To offer a hand in the dark. To remind you that you are not alone — whether you are navigating dementia, facing a loved one’s death, or finding the courage to love again despite the risk of heartbreak.

Thank you for walking a few steps of your journey with me. I honor your story, your resilience, and the love that has shaped your life.

Warmly,