$24.95 signed by the author

and personalized to you.

Ships free within 24 hours.

Memoir Offers Hope After Loss

Life is about the journey, isn't it? We are meant to enjoy it as much as we can, but how can we after losing someone so precious? The last thing our loved one would want is for us to remain stuck in that sad, sad place of deepest grief. You are not alone. Your feelings are valid. It is possible to be happy again.

Winner of the 2021 Best Book Award in Health: Death & Dying, Best First Book Award New Mexico, International Book Award Finalist in Health: Death & Dying, and numerous other awards.

Wind Blows-award-cover-3.jpg

Watch an interview with Terre by the Friends of the Santa Fe Library


Meet Terre

My initial goal in writing The Wind Blows and the Flowers Dance: An Artist Shares Her Life from Loss to Renewal is of course, selfish—my own healing. It also is a part of Charlie's (my husband of forty years) legacy. However, independent of me, it quickly took on a larger focus. 


As I moved through grief and began to heal, I became aware something very important needed to be shared. I have the ability to positively impact healing in others by sharing my journey. Over the next four years of writing that commitment never flagged. I tested out passages on friends and editors. It grew from twenty essays to the book you see today, in three parts and expanded to include paintings and poetry. 


More than any other form of celebration upon its completion and publication has been a deep feeling of satisfaction as readers share their experience with me. This book is making a difference. Over and over people tell me this book has left them feeling more confident. It has given them hope. They are healing. 

Journaling 2:21.jpg

Books available now!

$24.95 signed by the author
and personalized to you.
Ships free within 24 hours.

Get yours!

Praise for
The Wind Blows and the Flowers Dance

Beth Kean

Retired Bereavement

Coordinator Hospice 

The Wind Blows and The Flowers Dance is a REAL love story. It is not just a story of deep love between two people. It is how love even in the face of death's tragedy never leaves you and will show up because it lives in your heart. Terre's beautiful art and words offer the raw truth about death and about her courage to continue when it seemed most impossible. If you find yourself looking for a book about grief, this book will offer you REAL hope because it is about REAL love. 

What a treat! This beautiful book opens a window to one person’s experience of the mystery and pain of death, then gently ushers us to an awakening of new life. Drawing on a deep well of insights and emotions, and using a minimum of words to express them, we become a special guest invited to witness what it means to be human in all its grand, devastating, and life-giving moments. A joy to read. 

Dr. Harry Eberts

Pastor, First Presbyterian Church of Santa Fe, New Mexico 

Ralph Steele 

Author: Tending the Fire 

Guiding Teacher of Life Transition Meditation Center 

This book will be hard to put down. It is healing medicine that penetrates to the deepest part of one's nature. Her artistic ability shines a soft and embracing light into the process of grief. Terre awakens all the sense doors and turns the grieving process into a welcoming experience. 

With poignancy and humor, Ms. Reed provides an insightful journey through the process of grief following the loss of a spouse or partner. The author expertly captures the gamut of emotions leading up to and following death. I cried, laughed and revisited my own grief. I came away with a better under-standing and a greater sense of closure around my own personal loss. An accomplished artist, five of her paintings accentuate the narrative.

Leland Shaeffer

Widower, Los Angeles 

Bette Betts

Retired Bereavement

Coordinator Hospice 

I feel blessed to travel this journey with you, so creatively expressed, as well as thoroughly and deeply experienced. You show us how learning and experiencing the power of the present moment can serve as an anchor to touch the losses and wounds of the past and a tool to move forward, one step at a time to renewal, over and over again. Those who experience grief will find support and sustenance to carry on in your book. 

Having lost to death my partner of forty-seven years, many of your words expressing the immense pain and emptiness resonates in my life. Your ability to put into words the feeling of aloneness with the desire to hide from the outside world described my innermost feelings upon my wife's death—I was instantly a widower. A very insightful work. 

Tony Alarid

Widower, Santa Fe, New Mexico

Kathleen Gilbert

Poet, Four-time winner of the  

Browning Society Gita Specker Award


Terre has compiled a tough, tender and touching journey from the loss of her beloved husband to the nourishment and intensity of self-discovery. From opening to close, this memoir accompanied by five gorgeous paintings and nine philosophically precise poems of warmth and love is a treasure, a polished and radiant work! 

Dona Cook

Beautiful . . . painful . . .important. A process for each widow to find the path to peace and joy. While you may never “get over it,” you probably don’t want to. The prize of Terre’s journey is learning to live beautifully with it. Her book is a “must read” for the widow to be, the widow of reality, and the widow of rebirth. 

Widow, Santa Fe, New Mexico

Audio & eBook Available on Amazon


Chapter 30, Emptiness 

“One of the hardest gates to pass through is the gate of acceptance:  

I am here; I am alive; I am now.” 

“Hero with a Thousand Faces,”  

NPR interview with Joseph Campbell 


In a restaurant at dinner last night, I found myself staring at the chair on the other end of my table. The couples, on either side of me were smiling and engaging one another with the joy that comes from meeting new, interesting people. For me, they were backdrop, a bubbling brook of conversation, while I connected with the detail of that empty chair. 

Today, I sit by the large window in his woodworking shop. The sun pours in and warms this cold space. I see a beautiful peach rose blooming out of the window. I hear the second hand on the clock ticking, myself breathing, and the pen scratching on the paper. I hear a bird chirping. Insistently. It has something to tell.  

I look around and see what’s waiting to get done. It waits and I write. I am in that suspension where I don’t want to forget, and yet I need new memories and experiences—not to replace but to ease the process of losing and fill the aloneness. 

The mess I see is my mess, and whatever needs doing has to be my doing. The large shop air compressor kicks on. I must have forgotten to turn it off. No one does that for me. Now the freezer kicks on. It, too, has an air compressor; this one freezing, the other one blowing blasts of air. And then, there are the compressors on the roof of the walk-in coolers Charlie had designed and built. 


How did it get to be October? How did it get to be fall? How is it he has been gone now 15 weeks? Almost four months. Time is racing and the space between us seems to be growing wider and wider. His absence is still very new . . . no time at all. 

My thoughts consume me. I cannot tell you what they are. Perhaps like dreams, when I return to the present, they are gone. A dear friend walks in the door as I fold towels. “Did I know you were coming?” I vaguely remember a phone call. 


My friends are loving me and setting me down gently. They reach out to me. They want to spend time with me. “How are you?” is the relentless question. I lack words to describe how I am. “Okay,” seems to be the only word that comes out of my limited vocabulary. 

How did I get multiple tissue boxes and a roll of paper towels on my desk? In fact, tissue boxes are in every room, everywhere I look. Sitting in his shop, now my space, the last of my company gone, I feel myself sinking as I continue to drain. 

It’s time to feel my own edges. I don’t know where I begin or end. Taking time for me, my intention is immediate. I feel supported as I pick the peach rose and trim the rosehips off the bush, giving it my full attention. I notice shoulder muscles slightly relax, notice thoughts, maybe notice some feeling. 


Personalized signed paperback by Terre

Wind Blows-award-cover-3.jpg


Click on a painting to view larger