And life goes on.

WE'VE HAD SNOW here for three days—not much, about four inches. But it froze overnight and that kept me at home. Today it's starting to melt so I ventured out and picked up my husband's death certificate.

There's a finality about seeing those words tied to Ray's name on that official state-sanctioned form. It's a relief in a way, an undisputed acknowledgement that there's nothing I can do now. No medicines, no words, no supplications can bring him back. He's gone and I'm still here and life goes on. I've a document that proves it.

And I'm glad to be alive this week to applaud the energy and determination and strength of the students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. It's a marvel to me that these students, suffering profound shock and grief, have summoned the willingness and drive to confront this long-standing issue. My husband died peacefully at home. These children saw their best friends torn apart by the bullets of an AR-15. That they had the courage to stand up and say "no more" just hours after the event, well, I haven't the words for it.

We are living through a kind of crucible in this country. So much has happened that we never thought to see. But I rejoice in the power of so many resisting the onslaught of corruption and ignorance. People are standing up, fighting back, speaking out. And the year is young. We mustn't waste a minute of it.