LJ Herman is a former editor at Love What Matters and lives in Colorado. LJ is a concert, ticket and technology enthusiast. He has seen the Dave Mathews Band over one hundred times and counting.

LJ Herman is a former editor at Love What Matters and lives in Colorado. LJ is a concert, ticket and technology enthusiast. He has seen the Dave Mathews Band over one hundred times and counting.
“March 23rd. I start coughing up blood and it’s hard to breathe. My Apple Watch is saying my resting heart rate is 157. It’s never happened before, so obviously it’s concerning.”
“She called from the hospital to let me know she would try to be well enough to make that trip down here. She had COVID. She helped in every way possible for me to navigate widowhood. She was on the ventilator eight days. The one I leaned on my whole life.”
“I will never be the woman I was before the morning of July 4th, when we tried translating a Spanish pregnancy test in the morning light along the Mexican coast.”
“Before Casey left the state with me, before he promised me forever and before we said ‘I do,’ I explained the mental weight I carried. Somehow I knew it would be an added challenge. I wasn’t wrong.”
“The photo on this post is of my late husband and me. It was our last trip to Africa together. He looks a bit tired and haggard in the photo because, well, unknown to us when we set out on the trip, his cancer was back with a vengeance.”
“All day I kept having a weird feeling—like maybe I should call and ask him, ‘How are you?’ I just put it off as something else. The hospital assured us he was fine. I just shut down. I can’t explain it, but this switch in me just turned off. I don’t remember much after.”
“The overwhelmed times, the stress, the depression, the heartache, and the doubt. But I also know the good. The ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this’ feeling.”
“I’ve stopped greeted aging with sadness. Instead, with gratitude and amazement. Life is fleeting. Life is precious.”
“I laid my head on his chest, screaming and crying, ‘Dad, I need you, please don’t leave me!’ He immediately sat up for a brief minute, and we locked eyes. His beautiful brown eyes said more than words ever could. I happened to glance over at my mom. I started crying uncontrollably. Flashbacks of our last conversation flooded my thoughts, replaying in my mind over and over. I blamed myself, thinking, ‘If I just hadn‘t mentioned the boxes in the attic, then he wouldn’t have felt like he had to go up there.’”
“I was more ‘attractive’ to men. Found it easier to shop for clothes. Being thin actually made me more acceptable in society, it made me seem like I had my life together. I used to feel so validated by being skinny.”