Tragedy struck when I least expected it, leaving me a widow in what was supposed to be the prime of my life. With my daughter away at college, I withdrew further—becoming a reclusive version of myself.

The quietness of my big empty house was suffocating, my only form of solace being the rhythmic laps I repeated each day in my pool. Day after day, I remained frozen in time, while the world moved on without me.

Until…a year later, at forty-six, two young, handsome men came into my life who were more than willing to help me embark on a steamy journey of self-awakening. I found myself eager to watch and learn…to explore exactly what they were offering. And before long, I was diving deep into more than just the water of my pool. My time with them taught me everything I needed to see that life after tragedy didn’t have to be done alone.

A brief encounter with a man from the gym introduced me to someone who was walking the same journey of grief after losing a spouse. He brought life back to the parts of my heart I thought died the day I lost my husband; as if fate was watching out for me, offering me a chance to love again.