In 2002, I thought I had it all: I was married to my high school sweetheart, Mark, we had two beautiful children, and lived in a quiet suburban home. Then, on a Sunday afternoon in September, my husband was killed while riding his bicycle.

At 37 years old, my entire world crumbled in an instant. I was confronted with overwhelming grief, depression, and numbness.

I developed a disease that required 19 surgeries. It was the jolt I needed to reevaluate my life and how I was living – or not living as the case was in those early years.