July 19, 2016 Two weeks after Rupert’s sudden death

Conversely, the most subversive thing you can do is to live your truth as openly as you are able, so that others may learn to see difference. @sfslim

Shortly after my boyfriend was killed in a motorcycle accident at the age of 45, my housemate Tex Allen started calling me Hot Grieving MILF. I probably threw something at him the first time he said it, and told him to shut up every time thereafter, but somehow it stuck.

One night, a few of us were talking about my grief and my writing. “People are watching you,” my friends said, “You are living your life and your grief out loud. Think about what message you want to put out in the Universe.” I am blessed to be part of a vast yet tight knit community. I have felt so much love and support through this senseless tragedy. I have connected with other widows, my #griefsisters. Many friends have brought me meals and sat with me. I decided to take my grief public. It was suggested I use my new absurd moniker, Hot Grieving MILF. So here we are.

I love my boyfriend. That hasn’t stopped because he died. At the time of this writing, it has only been six weeks. Six of the hardest, most brutal weeks of my life. As I think about this blog, I know I will be writing about my grief, my pain, and my slow, difficult road to recovery. I will also share other aspects of my life, too. I’m not going to hold back. I am too tired, raw, vulnerable to wear any masks any more, and this has shown me how much love there is in my life. My words may resonate with you. It is my hope that they do. Sometimes my writing will be hard, sometimes it will be funny, sometimes it will be desperately sad and others happy, and sometimes it will be offensive or radical or weird. It is my truth.

Hang on tight.

“Fasten your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.” Bette Davis