When you know that someone close to you is going to die, there's a natural tendency to want to spend as much time with them as you can.

My wife, my family, my friends - they've all taught me things about love and what that emotion really means. In a nutshell, loving someone is about giving, not receiving.

I'm writing a new love story, set in eastern North Carolina. Surprise, surprise, huh?

I never know what to tell them. I mean, there's nothing you can say to make a person stop hurting. Half the time, I just feel like telling them the truth. I'd say that for 3 months, you're going to feel worse than you've ever felt and you cope as best you can. And that after 6 months, the pain isn't so bad, but it still hurts more than you think it will. And even after years, you still find yourself thinking about the person you lost and get sad about it. And you still miss them all the time.

No buts," he said, "because there are none. You see yourself as someone who couldn't get away. I see the courageous woman who escaped. You see yourself as someone who should be ashamed or guilty because she let it happen. I see a kind, beautiful woman who should feel proud because she stopped it from happening ever again. Not many women have the strength to do what you did.

People were destined for one another; that's the romantic idea that young girls have, and I guess part of me still believes it.

What happens in the past, is in the past. But don't be surprised if it comes back and haunts you.