I have a husband who adores me.

You recognize a survivor when you see one. You recognize a fighter when you see one.

We're all going to die.

If I had lost a leg, I would tell them, instead of a boy, no one would ever ask me if I was 'over it'. They would ask me how I was doing learning to walk without my leg. I was learning to walk and to breathe and to live without Wade. And what I was learning is that it was never going to be the life I had before.

I've spent a lot of words on my own mortality.

Everybody has their burdens, their grief that they carry with them.

Compromise today is too often applauded simply for itself. The cost of compromise to principles and real lives doesn't seem to matter.