High Road Artist

We married and, after several years, moved to southern Utah for his job where, in a few short months, my fairytale ended.

I’d taken one question with me to my appointment: How do I heal? She pulled my cards and nearly gasped, “You’re an artist!”

On March 8, 1996 I died. The universe had been trying to get my attention for years but since I hadn’t listened, it finally got heavy-handed with me. This is what happened.