Contributions by Linda Ambard

A surviving spouse shares her remarriage story. The Love Lives On Act would allow surviving spouses to remarry at any age and maintain their benefits.

The grief journey takes us to unknown places, and while we don't know all that we will encounter, we can pack some things to help us on the journey ahead.

I have been able to face my fears daily. They don’t rule my life. I choose to be happy. I choose not to quit. I choose to take a chance.

Sometimes in grief, you will get angry at your loved one.  A surviving spouse shares the side of grief we won't always admit - we get mad at our heroes for leaving.

When Linda Ambard's military husband was assassinated she lost hope. Then she met a man who saw her for more than just her story.

Marathon 100 can be about surviving the Heartbreak Hill of life and pushing through my fear to take back my life one step at a time.

Navigating loss and grief with your adult children and your new relationship.  

In a new relationship, a surviving spouse talks about the choice between allowing it to move forward in hope or protecting herself from losing again. 

She missed her husband's call. Not returning it in time would cause years of guilt, but an important lesson to always let others know how much they mean to you.

An honest dialogue about opening your heart to a relationship again after the death of spouse.

The grief journey crossroads of avoiding pain and risking your heart to find happiness again. 

I embrace the spirit of hope that comes from my faith and from the life I have been given.

Getting off of the couch isn’t about exercise; it is about living life.

I am thankful that Phil taught me what it was to be loved well and how to love well.

Phil never took for granted the freedoms afforded to him by the citizenship he received to our country a week shy of his 18th birthday.

This weekend with other military widows brought me clarity. It is the place where I could see how far I have come and where I need to dare myself to go.

No retreat, no surrender, and I have to trust at some point the way ahead will become clearer and more comfortable.

It is going to hurt and I am going to want to quit, but I continue on because I simply cannot let terrorism have any more.

In that choice to forgive, I am free to remember a man gone far too soon. I am free to enjoy living and not be consumed by my own negative judgments.

It battered my physical body and bruised my heart. The oppressive heat of summer bore down relentless and pressing and left me aching for a simpler time.

Phil’s legacy of duty, honor, commitment, faith, life, and love did not end with the death of his physical body, but the legacy grows and shines through my work.

I am good at being the mute friend and the friend that never takes the risks, but I am learning that nothing ventured is nothing gained.

Four years out, I can say that this journey is like a marathon. It still hurts. But by focusing on the next step it will eventually lead the finish line.

Forgiveness isn't something I can see happening in one decision. There isn't just one thing I can do to fully forgive. It is simply a process.

I act on the dreams that I have the power to achieve. I am no longer the broken winged bird that cannot fly. Someday is today.

Happiness is a choice. It isn't always easy to make that choice and certainly life is not always fair, but looking for contentment is easier than enduring a pity party.

It’s all about that attitude. While I cannot deny that I still have pity parties and days that I break down in tears, but every day I make the choice to be happy.

I have to prepare my heart for the onslaught of pressure to the healing wounds. I know that from Thanksgiving (our anniversary) through Christmas, I will hurt.

As I ran the hills of the Athens Marathon today, I recognize a huge change that I have made.

My other promise to Phil was to find a chapter two-find love again.

Phil's death caused a quake in my belief system and it has made me question who I am, what I stand for, and what I carry in my heart.

When Phil's candle burned out far too early, I snuffed out a part of me with him. In the 23 years of marriage, I found a safe harbor to weather the storms in.

Three years after Phil was killed, I've realized that I, like most, had a skewed perception of grief.

I have a dress that sits in the back of my closet. I wear it on special occasions because of what it has come to represent.

Loneliness creeps up on a person. In unexpected traumatic death, there is no preparing for being alone.

It is my year of promise, new beginnings, hope, and I intuitively know that I will find my way.

Who am I without my Phil next to me? Who am I and where do I go next?

April is my celebrate life month. I simply look for ways to celebrate the life I have been given and for ways to honor the man who loved me well for 23 years.

Sometimes in the quiet moments the longing sneaks in. It comes in my sleeping hours when I will awake with a sense of wanting and knowing all that has been lost.

For some reason this year, Valentine's Day is gouging me. This day has become my "Single Awareness Day."

Those sparks ignited with the magic of Disney and are blazing. I chose Disney because it is a happy place and my inner girl child comes out.

I stood facing down the monster of the holidays this year not knowing which way to turn.

I am stronger than I ever thought. My heart beats true and full, but I will never be the same girl Phil loved and knew well.

My youngest graduated from the Air Force Academy recently. He was commissioned by his oldest brother and his youngest sister.

I may not feel much like rejoicing, and I may not feel like I am in control of my life today, but I do know this: with faltering steps, I will stumble on.