About the Book: Gift of the Extraordinary

My soon-to-be published memoir, Gift of the Extraordinary, One Mother's Transformational Journey through the Life and Death of Her Child, documents my personal journey following the death of my beloved child, as I moved through the fresh grief of shock, despair and profound loss, to self-discovery, and eventual recovery and acceptance.

Gift of the Extraordinary is for those who have lost a child, and who are full-face at the toughest juncture of their lives. I was there. For those who think they can't go on. I was there. For those whose hearts would rather join their child in heaven. I was there. For those who are immersed in shame, fear, blame and self-judgment. I was there. For those who think they no longer deserve a place at the table, I was there too.

BookBut from the get-go, I found that I had a foot in both worlds, the day-to-day, linear reality, and the possibilities of higher consciousness, accessed through such resources as Reiki healing, meditation, the shamanic journey, the dream state, hypnotherapy, and journaling.

As I began to open my heart to higher understandings, I was led to self-discovery. I came to a greater understanding of the mother-son soul contract; that to honor the sacred connection my son and I shared, I needed to empower myself to heal and recover, to rejoin the human race in full force. Now, fourteen years later, my journey has come full-circle.

My mission in writing Gift of the Extraordinary was threefold: one, to tell a human interest story which provides healing and inspiration; two, to acknowledge and document the transformational nature of the mind-body-spirit healing process; and three, to offer such holistic healing possibilities to others in need.

Included in the last chapter are strategies for recovery from the early period of loss,"fresh grief."

I have included, below, an excerpt from the book's prologue.

Gift of the Extraordinary

PROLOGUE: Foresight

... Once a powerful woman, Grandmother looked tiny and fragile, her sparse, frizzy hair almost disappearing into the hospital corners of gray-white linen, firmly encasing the narrow bed.

"Dale is at home with the sitter, Grandmother," I smiled, seating myself, bedside, and grasping her clammy hand in mine, as best I could. "But he sent his Elam," I offered, extending a medium-sized, gently used teddy bear toward her, placing it in her dangling hand.

"Ahhhh," she murmured, the lines on her forehead furrowing, as if gathering in the fruit of the vines.
"You're going to lose him, you know..." she announced, dreamy words slurring together. "Well, maybe not," she croaked, a whispered afterthought.

I gasped inwardly, shocked at the nature of this sudden, cruel outburst. But I was just as quick to discount her barely audible words as the ramblings of a dying, old woman. Semi-lucid at best.