I Can't Cry In Colors

About the Book

This is the story of my life, the death of that life, and my existence after my life’s death. It may not always be up-beat, but every feeling is honest. I wrote it to be read as though we were sitting at my kitchen table having coffee and talking. I don’t presume to be a scholarly writer, so bear with me when I ramble. There is a message integrated in the pages that will affect everyone and will, hopefully, help someone; maybe even you. THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN IN RETROSPECT. SOME OF THE NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE GUILTY, AS WELL AS MYSELF.

About the Author

Writing came second or third on my list of career choices. However, that was many years ago, before the car accident, before writing was the only outlet I had to vent accumulated anger, sorrow, sympathy, rage, and all the emotions that a good cry usually remedies. I can’t cry. Simple, unadulterated joy might bring showers of tears. The death of a loved one usually stirs feelings of grief too intense to be stifled. For some unknown reason, mine have been smothered. I can’t cry, so I write. My writing has become my placebo.