Our school lost a shining light this week. A little boy -- six years old. He, the lover of hockey, fishing and fun, was taken suddenly, leaving our school community grappling with life and death issues. In my classroom, I turned to the one sure thing I knew could shed some light, love and laughter on an otherwise dark cloud that hovered low. Your books.

I am a widow. Friendships, I learned, are not immune to grief. Despite what you may think, some friends will leave you when you need them the most. Perhaps they don't know what to say or how to act. After speaking to people in similar situations, I now realize that in many cases, friendship and grief do not mix.

I have not always been so blunt about death or talking about death. To be honest, before my husband died, I never said the word. I was superstitious and felt that by uttering the word I was inviting trouble. I did not have a will, afraid that I would jinx myself. That all changed the day my world collapsed and my healthy 44-year-old husband died suddenly. I had to face the "D-word" head on. There was no turning around and avoiding it.

I don't know where it came from, I don't know why, but from one moment to the next I was mourning my unborn babies. My heart felt the painful cramp of loss like it was freshly earned. I felt a wash of trauma sweep over me and I gasped to catch my breath. Great. Right here on vacation in Florida. In Target.