We have a saying in our family of three when hard luck comes our way. “It just adds to the plot.” I don’t mean we say, “bring it”, it’s just that resilience is in our blood.

For the most part, I would say my adult children were not spoiled, and at times the near opposite. That didn’t mean I didn’t work myself bleary eyed trying, it just means there was just some much to go around. There were no video games, too many old cars to count, and yard sales were a staple. So, by design or by chance, they have successfully launched, and I couldn’t be prouder of them. I have cheered from the sidelines, but they did the work, the very hard work. They have an unmatched work ethic, they think on their feet, and they can walk into any room and make a friend.

I love them unconditionally, and without restraint, even when opinions differ or the generation gap is front and center. Though miles between us, I feel their love every day and I pray they feel mine.

We’re on a new path. It’s one we did not plan for or expect, but we are finding our way. It has become clear to me that healing individually, is even more important than healing together. As this year comes full circle, holidays and anniversaries pass, we are still standing.

There were undoubtedly hard days, confusing days, and days we didn’t feel anything at all. Even if turning back time was an option, it solves nothing. It doesn’t remove loss, and it won’t change the outcome.

I believe we can hold forever love in our hearts and still be open to more. In fact, I would go as far as to say that is exactly how we honor them. We take the days we have left and pour everything into them. At least, that’s my plan at the moment.

There will be plot twists, and new characters in our story, and some may surprise you in the best ways. I will appreciate them all whether they’re here for a season or a lifetime. I am grateful for this life, for the years God has graciously given me, for a promising future and for the people I have known along the way.

Thank you for your subscription. Your faithfulness here means so much. I appreciate you.

“If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change” - Wayne Dyer.

I don’t think I’ve ever given a trigger warning to one of my reads, but I’m feeling it necessary today. In fact, there is a good possibility that this publication will be taken down and just tucked away for my own personal archives.

On the heels of my Noah Kahan high, I was once again reminded of the fragility of life. You always think you are ready for news, until you actually get it.

Boston holds a lot of memories for me, primarily that my late husband called it home. The last time I was in Boston was his discharge from Massachusetts General Hospital.

The collapse happened in Boston Logan Airport. There was the ambulance ride, 48 hours in an ER hallway, and then an almost 30-day stay on the oncology floor.

I’ve never been to a city hospital full of law-enforcement and patients in jumpsuits handcuffed to beds. It was a far cry from our bougie local Mayo Clinic. All of that didn’t matter, because MGH had outstanding care.

Michael came immediately and handled Abigail’s grueling commute from St Augustine through a summer hurricane. They are both champions for the family.

Not really knowing how to handle my landing in Logan last week, I just went for it. I beelined right over to the spot it happened. I sat in the chair. I looked at the terrazzo tile where I did that double over thing that you only see in the movies.

As I sat in that chair, I took deep breaths, and I whispered all the reasons I had to be grateful that this life altering event happened in Kev’s hometown. Mainly, he got to say his goodbyes. And MGH saved or at least extended his life. It didn’t take long for those grateful whispers to turn into a few tears. In no time, a nice man walked his service dog over to me and asked if I needed to pet him. I did.

I ended up learning the Boston Public Transit system inside out. You could even call me a city girl that August, maybe. I remember the doctor told me on day one that this was going to be a long journey. She told me to take my lunch every day down by the Charles River. I never did. I regret that.

I stayed with Kev’s lifelong best friend and his wife during that season. I stayed again with them just last week. They are family to me. I also had dinner with my sister-in-law, or I guess officially former sister-in-law. That’s just weird. I never realized, but when you lose a spouse, you sort of lose a whole family too. She will always be my sister-in-law, I’m declaring.

Day 3 of my trip, I dusted myself off and got to Fenway Park for the concert of a lifetime! I am thankful for spending time with my children there and for having such a fun night with my friend, .

As I boarded the plane home, I was more than ready to say goodbye to Boston and turn the page in my story. I’m not sure what this next chapter will bring, but I have some high hopes.

It’s critical that I leave Boston in Boston. I already had a quick set back this week where residual feelings of worry snuck back in. Loss is inevitable, but we can’t let that knowing hold us back from connection.

I have decided to take a chance and hedge all bets on a new beginning. Sure, it’s scary, but fear is the enemy of faith. God is not done writing my story, as He is not done writing yours either. The Lord is faithful, and the restorer of all good things. I believe that to be true.

Thank you for your subscription. I know this was not my usual piece. I promise better days are ahead.

‘They’ say a core memory is one that shapes your life in a new and foundational way. Attending the Noah Kahan concert in the pouring rain in Fenway Park is now one for me, although not for why you might think.

From start to finish, it was a meaningful experience. The artist’s humility and his ability to articulate his personal struggles to bring healing to so many inspires me to be a better writer and human being.

Singing out loud his cherished lyrics with other like-minded fans made it somehow a profound, almost religious experience. And having my son next to me sealed the deal. He is my first born. We have walked through hard times, both individually and together. Against all odds, our bond is unbreakable. I am so grateful for both my children and the healing in our lives.

Of all the dynamic moments, this next one will remain above the others. It is the actual core memory.

Michael is the Music Director for one of the opening artists of the tour, Annabelle Dinda, who is a beautiful and talented singer-songwriter.

While waiting for the doors to open, Michael calls me and says, “Mom, I am coming to get you. Stay there.” He showed up in record time, and escorted me and my guest, , past hundreds of fans to the front of the line, checking on me as we hurried. He then communicated to security that he was on the crew, and he needed to bring his mom in with him. We were in!

My son has grown in ways unimaginable. I am infinitely proud of both my children. Not for what they do, but for who they are inside.

So, Mamas, if you are in that stage of waiting and praying, stay strong and be patient. Your “I am coming to get you” is on the way.

Happy 4^th of July!!

As ‘head in the sand’ as it sounds, I have not watched the news in years, and I have no foreseeable plans to jump back in. If a hurricane is comin…

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Disappointment, we have all been there. I had a bout of it lately, and it jolted me right back to my need to ‘go with the flow’. It sure seems I am getting plenty of opportunity for that practice lat…

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Sebago Lake, Maine.

Being comfortable with not knowing is my current struggle.

Having been a teacher, mom, caregiver, and wife, my life revolved around the calendar. I know this is a new season, but t…

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One of, if not the primary reason, I have prevailed through this season is the women in my life. Their willingness to seek me out, and keep seeking, speaks to the beautiful condition of their hearts.

These women not only opened their hearts and schedules, they were ‘boots on the ground’ present. They knew things I needed before I did, and even when I was unaware.

I share all this now, of course out of gratitude, but also to encourage you to find your people.

Due to one reason or another, my family ties are small, and no one is near, so girl friends have always been my sisters. Chosen kin have made my life complete and full circle in so many ways.

All this community reflection got me thinking of a sweet time period before cell phones, the internet, and other modern ways of life. I have even heard it said that depression and the like were less prevalent in those days, in part due to this one thing.

The clothesline.

‘Legend’ has it that homemakers would take their wet laundry by basket to the yard while the neighbor was out there too. And there it began.

The secrets, the tell-all’s, the ‘take it to the grave’ confessions, would happen in that space. Although this ‘phenomenon’ took place before my time, I am fascinated.

Think about it. A daily face to face outpouring in the fresh air and sunshine. It was not just a fun spin on laundry; it was a time to look forward to each day. A time of sharing, perhaps sometimes despair, perhaps sometimes elation, most likely a time of healing and compassion.

I even wonder if it helped the success of marriages, as the wives were potentially without burden when their husbands arrived home from work.

I doubt the shared fence conversation and clothesline talks will return, but it might be worth a reconsideration.

I’m thinking the bus stop, or maybe a trip to our mailboxes might do the trick.

Above is a very special video of one of my besties as a very young girl. It is of her precious mom hanging clothes on the line, while my friend toddles about near her, and dad popping in too.

She has been a faithful friend, prayer warrior, and ‘battle years’ person in my life. I am grateful for her friendship, and the use of her keepsake video.

I pray this piece makes you wonder about the simple things in life, and the little ways we can find deep connection in our personal worlds. Your orbit may be more engaging, and more fulfilling than you ever imagined. I am excited for you! Enjoy! You never know who will be at your ‘line’.

With Love,

Stephanie

North Sebago, Sebago Lake, Maine

The Message

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Photo Credit: Jon Miller, Kansas.

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Churchill Downs, 2026. Photo Credit: Emily Jennings

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Today is our wedding anniversary.

It was such a special day. I had waited for that moment for many, many years.

I am so thankful we married and became a family. Kevin was the mo…

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I love to look at this island from our new shoreline. I’ve never been on there. I hear that is where eagles make their home.

I’ll look for them.

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So, I am claiming that progress today, as I round the six-month mark of my great loss.

I am climbing out of my sadness. In full transparency, my body physically and emotionally, cannot bear its weight any longer.

One day, I was served a video ‘reel’ (from my cell spying, no doubt), letting me know you can die of a broken heart.

I believe that to be true.

In medical terms, it is called: Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy.

I have a responsibility to Kevin, our children, and myself to be well, and to not leave before my appointed time.

You see, my own father died of a sudden and fatal heart attack at just age 50. That knowing has always played in the background of my life for years.

I know grief will always be tucked away in my heart, but I must see it as love now instead.

I was so blessed to be Mrs. Kevin Connors for the length of time God allowed. I believe the Lord foreknew Kev’s diagnosis and suffering; and that Kev would need me.

And I needed him.

The time has come to turn sorrow into thanksgiving, and tears into remembrance.

My Hospice Counselor, who I met with recently, shared that I should aim to do planned or intentional grieving now. I should take short periods of time, with a designated activity that celebrates Kev, and remember him. Cry, perhaps smile, or simply be present.

Here are some ideas I have for these special times. If you were blessed to know Kev, send me your ideas.

1) Have a root beer, maybe even an ice cream float (Kev LOVED these!)

2) Watch an Andy Griffith, maybe followed by a Star Trek. (Kev’s favorites!)

3) Of course, cheer on any Boston Sports Team. (The Bruins were his favorite!)

4) Call one of his friends and reminisce. (He had SO many!)

5) Take a ‘Winter Wonderland’ walk at night. (Kev LOVED a good snowstorm!)

6) Head to Pleasant Mountain, maybe ski the bunny slope- after a lesson. (Kev was an AMAZING skier and he grew up skiing Pleasant Mountain, formerly Shawnee Peak.)

7) Crank some Bruuuuuce Springsteen in the house. (Kev’s all-time favorite performer!)

8) Sit on my porch and watch the starry night, and maybe he will be watching too. (Kev was always fascinated with astronomy and he had the coolest constellation app on his phone.)

9) Swim in Sebago Lake. (Kev was in this lake at 8 days old! It was his favorite spot on earth – which explains why I am here!)

10) Fish. I don’t really have this skill because I always read a book next to Kev while he fished, but it was by far his favorite hobby. (Note to self – call Kane, his fishing bud, and former roomy to join me.)

Oh, how I could go on with all the ways I could commemorate my love. Thank you for indulging me here.

I am looking forward to your thoughts.

With Love,

Stephanie

“There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, only survival, the only meaning.” - Thorton Wilder

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