I love this poem because it rings so true to how I have felt throughout my journey:

THESE SHOES I WEAR

I AM WEARING A PAIR OF SHOES, THEY ARE UGLY SHOES,

UNCOMFORTABLE SHOES, I HATE MY SHOES.

EACH DAY I WEAR THEM, AND EACH DAY I WISH I HAD ANOTHER PAIR,

SOME DAYS MY SHOES HURT SO BAD THAT I DON’T THINK I CAN TAKE

ANOTHER STEP IN THEM, YET I CONTINUE TO WEAR THEM.

I GET FUNNY LOOKS IN MY SHOES, THEY ARE LOOKS OF SYMPATHY,

I CAN TELL IN THEIR EYES THEY ARE GLAD THEY ARE MY SHOES...

This is what I said then, well, this is what I wrote and had read. I was scared, too scared to read it aloud myself.  I was scared for a lot of reasons, none of which were good, so I had the priest read them at her funeral. And to this day it haunts me. It was four plus years ago and it still haunts me.

I wrote it the night before her funeral, but couldn’t bring myself to speak it. It may have been that the words hurt too much. But maybe that was just an excuse, something I told myself the...