There is comfort in a group who have suffered similar fates. They may not have suffered the same loss, but we all have experience SOME sort of loss in our lives and that give us a certain kinship. We are sisters of different mothers. We have a level of understanding merely by the fact we have no Y chromosome. (I know there are some guys who read me here, but the vast majority are gals so I'll address them specifically. I'll get to you guys soon, k?) We share similar experiences and circumstances simply because we are women.

I've been trying to remember my last Valentine's Day with Mr. Virgo. By the calendar, I see it was a Thursday. I must have been at home working in my studio because my activity log on FB shows me doing a lot of networking. Marshmallow Ranch was a business page at the time. I was exchanging info with other "makers" to reach more people. I'm sure I spent a good deal of time online that day. I probably made a lovely dinner for my sweetheart. I do remember him coming in with flowers (an orchid, maybe?) and a little heart shaped cake. I know he gave me the sweetest Valentine's card.

Life was never, ever boring when Mr. Virgo was around. He had the most amazing stories and we always had something to talk about. He'd start off a story and ask if he'd told me that one or not. I always answered, "I don't know, babe. But tell it to me again!" I could listen to his stories over and over and over.

It is right around the corner...that day where the world goes all soft and happily Hallmark on us and we don't have a date. The first Valentine's Day after Mr. Virgo died was brutal. It was just a month before the one year angelversary and my heart was feeling everything. The fuzzy gauze of that first year of grief was beginning to lift making everything worse. Those feelings of loneliness, abandonment... of being glaringly alone without my Valentine caused a lot of bad words to fall out of my face.

I like to go to different churches. I attended a church in the small town I lived in the last 14 years I lived in Colorado. I have another one on the outskirts of Denver where I attend when I am visiting the kids. There's my grandma's little one room church that I have attended several times since coming to West Virginia in October 2014. I went to one church here where they spoke in tongues, which was interesting from a sociological standpoint but did nothing for me faith wise. I've attended a Baptist church many times and, while it is more contemporary with a praise team, it is not nearly the same as that Denver church that I love.

Such possibilities! Another week...a fresh start...our own little mini do-over we are gifted with 52 times a year. What new thing will you tackle this week? What masterpiece will you create? Will it raise the world and those occupying it to a higher level? Will you build up or tear down?

I'm an instant gratification kind of gal. I want to see the results of my labor in a timely fashion. That doesn't always happen. Sometime the things we pour our hearts into never see the light of day. A labor of love can be as grand as a person's life work or it can be as small as a fine orchid on a windowsill. But, no matter how invisible your accomplishment appears, there are always at least two people who know it exists...you and God.

I would have made a great groupie back in the day. Living near Aspen for nearly 30 years taught me they're ordinary people with high profile jobs. So, I'm careful about approaching celebrities. But, I could have been a great groupie because I love going to concerts.

I've been holed up writing for the last week, pretty much. When I received the group text declaring the need for a girl's night out, I jumped at the chance! Benton Blount played at a local music venue last night. He was a contestant on America's Got Talent last year and man...does he ever have talent! He and his band put on a great show. I especially loved the version of Jolene. He was a very humble, down to earth young man. We talked about his little boy getting a new tooth this week that's making him cranky and they have a new baby girl coming in four weeks.

Mr. Virgo was a Civil War buff. When he was a little boy growing up in South Philly, he was in the Boy Scouts and they went on a field trip to Gettysburg. They were taking a tour of the battlefield and trying to find a particular place. Mr. Virgo kept pointing over the edge of a hill, insisting what they were looking for would be found there. Finally, the adults listened to him and, sure, enough, it was exactly where he said it would be. When asked how he knew, Mr. Virgo told them he had been there before. His dad was on the tour with the boys that day and overheard the conversation. When they got to the car, his dad asked him what he was talking about. He told him he had been there before. But his dad said he hadn't ever been there. Mr. Virgo said, "Yes, I was. It was when I was a soldier!"

A little over seven years ago, my dad died. He had Alzheimer's Disease and was in a nursing home. He was just shy of 88 years old. Dad and I didn't have a comfortable relationship. While I've been told by others how he bragged on me and professed his love for me, I saw very little evidence of those feelings my entire life. He was an active alcoholic when I was growing up and seemed to revert to his old behaviors whenever we were together.

I've written for public consumption nearly every day for three years. Writing really has become as natural as breathing and I become anxious if I can't write. That being said, I'm doing a TON of writing lately and the water table is getting a little low in my well. I need new experiences to write about but when all you're doing is writing, then writing about writing can get rather tedious. There's nothing I can do about it right now. I have to maintain my focus and keep working on this editing process.