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Dozens of personal experiences and medically documented cases have caused me to do a 180 on this. The idea that miracles are fake is literally the 8th lie of Organized Religion.

(Fake miracles masquerading as real ones are the other side of that coin, by the way…

Where I grew up, they said: “Miracles don’t happen anymore.

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Trust me, there were plenty of late night crying fits and trips to therapists and a wonderful support group for loved ones of brain injury victims.

But I’m not sure I fully felt the gravity of my loss – our loss. Finally, I recognized that three years’ worth of grief had come knocking.

Divorcing people are also forced to face the loss of dreams of family life, and what the rest of your life will be like. All this upheaval and stress can leave little room to deal with simple loss of love.

When you are contending with a 360-degree life barf, there is scant space to sit quietly and feel the weighty grief of no longer spending nights with a person who you at least once — likely still — loved very much.

He says to me: “Perry, I’ve studied the New Testament inside and out. I was quite concerned that he was right about the placebo effect and the wishful thinking. When she moved her arm up and down she complained that her shoulder would crack and pop and Jeremy and I could feel that too, when we put our hands on her shoulder when she’d move it. I asked her to do it for me and I snapped a picture. Those who speak in tongues The protestant church has amputated #1, #2, #4, #5 and #8.

She said it didn’t hurt anymore and both arms were equally good. The teachers and administrators have been left in charge.

Someone who I cared very much about, knew my kids, but was a lover — no more. We were emotionally, intellectually, sexually intertwined. When we broke up there was nothing to contend with grief.

Which is another reason why we do not mourn the love for our husbands immediately after divorce.

For months after that conversation, I gave myself permission to mourn.

Those sad Sundays were committed to indulging the emotion and grief and healing that had eluded me. At bedtime after coming home from her dad’s on Sunday, I laid next to my then-4-year-old daughter in her twin bed. I worry I dismiss the grief my kids might feel over the divorce.

She was riled up after the transition, which is not unusual, but it spiraled into something else. After all, Lucas wasn’t even born when we separated – Helena not yet 2.

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