Mark August 15 on your calendars so you can catch my radio interview with Dr. Gloria Horsley, founder of the Open to Hope grief foundation in Palo Alto, California. For more information about my book, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels, a "2013 Beach Book Festival Runner-Up" go to PRWeb Press Release

Twenty-Eight Snow Angels Honored

I'm pleased to announce my memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal was named "2013 Beach Book Festival Awards Runner-Up" in the autobiography category! The book continues to bring hope and inspiration to those facing the loss of a loved one. I recently shared my grief story at an event sponsored by the Kok Funeral Homes in Cottage Grove, Minnesota. The Aftercare director in her thank you note wrote: Many spoke of the book being helpful to them. You offered a lot of transparency with care and humor that the audience could relate to and they took home some "tools & hope".  For information on the book visit my website at http://outskirtspress.com/snowangels
Available in e-book and paperback on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Twenty-Eight-Snow-Angels-Widows-Renewal/dp/1432777041 and at Barnes and Noble http://bn.com/w/twenty-eight-snow-angels/1114818659?ean=2940016268804

Father's Day Tribute

An Everyday Guy
A Tribute to the Memory of My Father

I thought writing an essay about my father for “Father’s Day “would be an easy task. However, sitting at my laptop, the words didn’t roll onto the blank page like I thought they would. Staring at the faded black and white photos from the 1950s in the family photo album, I tried to remember the joyful moments my father and I shared.

My father, Harold Elleson, was the oldest and only son in his family. He became a survivor at the age of 19 when his father, a locomotive fireman for the Omaha railroad was killed—scalded to death—in a train accident on August 6, 1937. The local paper, “The Spooner Advocate” called the wreck “One of the Worst in the History of This Division of Omaha Road.” With the tragic loss of his 43 year-old father my dad became the primary provider for his mother and two younger sisters. The railroad company compensated the family by guaranteeing my father a permanent job with the railroad. During World War II my father wanted to enlist, but was deferred because he was the main financial support for his family. After completing his apprenticeship to become a machinist, he began repairing locomotives on the Chicago Northwestern railroad in a dingy roundhouse in Minneapolis— not exactly a “dream job.”

In 1944, a justice of the peace united my parents in holy matrimony, and in1945 my brother Tom was born. A couple years later, I arrived unexpectedly when my mother—startled by a bird—fell and broke her leg. Tucked in an incubator at the hospital for several weeks, I depended on my father’s daily “milk delivery.” I guess those daily visits bonded us in a special way. I loved spending time with my dad. When he worked nights at the roundhouse, I forced myself to stay awake until he arrived home and kissed me good night. I loved it when we snuggled in his favorite rocking chair together and he read Golden Books to me, “Circus Time” about a father and his daughter spending the day at the circus was my absolute favorite. Even though he seldom said he “loved” me, I knew he did. Sometimes when he arrived home he’d give me a gentle whisker rub and let me eat the cookies left over in his lunch box. When he didn’t have to work a double shift, he even sat through my dance recitals. At my first recital when I was four, he smiled when he saw me dressed in my “onion” costume dancing to the song, “I’m A Lonely Little Petunia.” Obviously, I was part of the tiny ballerinas that made up the onion patch.

Dad wasn’t much of a travelin’ man. Our summer vacations consisted of trips to my grandparents’ farm during haying season or to my aunt’s rustic cabin in Hackensack, Minnesota. I loved sitting in the boat with my dad, the dragonflies buzzing around my head as I stared at the red and white bobber on the lake’s surface. My dad was so patient with me, even when I managed to get the fishing lure tangled in my shorts he gently untangled the hooks from the fabric.

 In 1955, when my younger brother was nine months old, we took our one and only family cross county trip to Alhambra, California to visit my dad’s mother. Spending endless hours in a hot car with no air conditioner, my mom and dad flipped “Lucky Strike” cigarette ashes out the vent windows as we watched the roadside “Burma Shave” signs fly by and listened to whatever station my dad could find on the radio. After a stressful week in California traffic and fed up with visiting all the distant relatives, Dad’s patience maxed out and he packed us back in the car. Driving all night through the desert and spending a couple of nights in cheap motels we arrived back in Minnesota. Sixty years have passed, but the “Yellow Rose of Texas” lyrics of the 1955 hit song that filled the car still linger in my mind.

Yes, my dad was quite the guy. He was dedicated to his family, a hard worker, a wonderful provider and a loving man. When my husband, John, and I married in 1972, my father with a very serious look on his face walked me down the aisle. At the reception, John said, “I’ll take good care of her.” My dad’s response, “You better.” What more could any daughter ask for?

Father’s Day is a tough day for me. I loved my father deeply. Every year when “JUNE” appears on the calendar, it’s a reminder of losing him at the age of 68, just days before Father’s Day in 1987. My mother died a year before my dad, a few days before Mother’s Day. Losing them a year apart was a huge loss. Wishing everyone a “Father’s Day” filled with family, love and wonderful memories. Carry those memories forward, they bring comfort.

For more information about my writing and books visit my website http://outskirtspress.com/snowangels or Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/author/dianedettmann

Reflections on My Widow Journey

When John and I said, "I do" on June 10, 1972, the possibilities in our life together were unimaginable and endless. As the recessional music carried us down the aisle in front of family and friends, our heads held visions of never-ending love. We were committed to our vows and to each other. "Until death do us part" is what we said  and we meant it. (excerpt from Diane's memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal)

Happily married for 28 years, I never thought I'd walk the widow path. In this video, I share my story hoping it will help others. Continuing to donate a portion of my book sales to the "American Widow Project," an organization that supports military widows, widowers and their families. Book info at http://www.outskirtpress.com/snowangels

Asking For Help

A year after John's sudden death, I found myself wandering around the house and discovering all sorts of projects waiting to be finished. The deck needed to be replaced, I had a leakage problem in the basement and the half finished exercise room stared me in the face each morning when I went downstairs to jump on my mini-tramp and pedal the stationary bike.

The room with cement block walls had been the former owners workshop. John and I had cleared out some of the clutter with plans of fixing it up, but it was a low priority, at the bottom of our remodeling list. Living in the house alone, working full-time as a staff developer in an elementary school and traveling with my colleagues on training trips, I had very little free time to devote to home improvement projects. One day as I was driving to work, the words "Need a handyman? Call Ken" jumped off a sign on the side of the road. I jotted down the number and called it that night.

A kind voice answered. I told Ken, I had a few projects I needed done and wondered if he could take a look at them and give me an estimate. A few days later, his van pulled into my driveway. He greeted me with a smile. I showed him the grout in the bathroom that needed replacing and the unfinished exercise room. He jotted notes and said he'd call me in a couple of days. When he called and told me the cost of the projects, I was pleasantly surprised with the reasonable estimate. Pleased with his work and kindness, I hired Ken a few months later to replace the deck. The staff from my school really enjoyed our get together on my new deck. Our talented music teacher who is also a recording artist entertained us with some of her wonderful songs! Years later, the deck is still my favorite place to share time with friends and family.

Knowing Ken was just a phone call away gave me a sense of comfort knowing that if my washer went on the fritz or I had a plumbing problem, I could depend on him to help me out. Sometimes I think that sign at the side of the road was God reaching out to me offering support and showing me the way.

As you face life alone, tackle tasks you can comfortably, but don't hesitate to ask for help on projects and challenges you can't handle by yourself. You may find not only the support you need, but a friendship that lasts for years to come!

Decisions, Decisions

After the sudden death of my 54 year old husband, the years that followed were filled with challenges and decisions. Making them alone had it's positive side, I could pat myself on the back if all worked out, but if it didn't, I had only myself to blame.

The first decisions I faced were financial. Stay in the house or sell? During our twenty-eight years of marriage, John and I had lived in a variety of houses. We started our life together in a one bedroom apartment. Over the next several years we lived in a 1940s bungalow we remodeled: a house we built and later sold due to a job loss, and a 980 square foot town house we rented while John was between jobs. Oh, I forgot to mention the nine months we lived with his mother with our furniture and personal belongings stored in her attic and basement. I guess, my husband's old bedroom, wouldn't be considered a house.

In 1992, while I was still in graduate school, we purchased a house in rural Afton, Minnesota. The house needed remodeling but the awesome setting captured our hearts. Over a period of seven years we updated the house in phases. In the fall of 1999, we finally completed the final stage of the project with plans of paying off the mortgage and spending our retirement years together enjoying the view.

John's sudden death on June 30, 2000 devastated me and threw me into a tailspin of decisions. I never expected to be left alone at the age of 53. To get out from under the mortgage, my first impulse was to sell the house. I wasn't sure I could meet the payments on my teaching salary. Luckily, we had a wonderful attorney, Ole, a friend of my husband's. He encouraged me to stay in the house for at least a year. His advice "Don't make any major decisions unless you have to. Call me anytime" provided assurance and hope as I worked my way through that first year alone.

More decisions presented themselves in the years that followed, but as I look out the window at the beautiful, snow covered St. Croix Valley, I thank God and Ole for helping me make the decision to "hang on" to the house. Everyone's situation is different, but surrounding yourself with people you trust can help make those tough decisions easier as you struggle to "hang in there" after the loss of a spouse.

Author of Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love, Loss and Renewal http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B003FHMAUS

With Gratitude and Thanks

As a writer, I'm totally in awe with the reader response to my memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow Angels: A Widow's Story of Love. Loss and Renewal. It's receiving awesome support and endorsements from grief professionals, readers and organizations supporting those facing loss. Reliving the devastating loss of my husband as I reread my journal entries, studied photos of our life together and cried through endless drafts was hard. I almost gave up. Now that my story's helping others, I'm glad I kept going.
Marty Tousley, Nationally Certified Bereavement Counselor with Hospice of the Valley in Phoenix, Arizona wrote:

"I am grateful that this author had the courage to share her very personal story so honestly and openly with others who will benefit from reading this book. Diane's chapter describing her efforts to let go of her deceased husband's piano is a classic, and nothing less than a treasure unto itself. Suffice it to say that her book is one that, as a grief counselor, I am pleased to list as one I've read myself and personally recommend, to clients and colleagues as well."

If you're struggling with a loss of a loved one, you might find comfort and hope in my story. Excerpt and information at:http://outskirtspress.com/snowangels

Sending my heartfelt thanks for everyone's support.