Before the passing of my husband, my life was perfect. I was so blessed. I was so happy, that if I were given one wish to change anything in my life, it would only have been to be gifted with a nice singing voice. I knew how blessed I was, my relationship with my husband had been easy and fulfilling from the very beginning, my kids were all healthy, my career was cool, and we were just crushing this thing called life. Some days I would think to myself, "Wow my life is too perfect, I'm afraid I'm going to lose it." My nightly (when I didn't pass out during a Netflix show) prayer went like this, "To my higher power, thank you for my beautiful life. I am so grateful. Thank you. Please let my family live until we're really old or let me be the first to go. Amen, peace." Now, full disclosure, I do not follow a specific religion. I take bits and pieces from multiple religions that make sense to me. In my belief, I believe that my God knows my heart and intentions. I also believe that blessing other people when I can and trying my best to be a genuinely good person is my way of worshipping my God. So on the day of my husband's passing, when my nightly prayers and my prayers for God to save him that day went unanswered, I was certain that there was no higher power or my God. In my desperate state, I tried making a deal with the devil. I was willing to sacrifice 10 people, myself included, for my husband. It took me to hear other people's stories of loss to realize that I'm not alone and no-one is spared from the heartbreak of losing someone you love who had so much more life to live. My God and I are still working things out, but I am opening back up to my spirituality. Peace