How do you hold the expansive story of a life when all people want to ask about is the ending? Dr. Tina Fornwald dedicates the month of March to remembering the whole person in grief, honoring her late husband, Mark Fornwald, nine years after his passing. In this raw and deeply personal conversation, she speaks directly to Mark, allowing listeners into a 32-year love that shaped her into the woman she is today—a relationship built on mutual strength, laughter, and raising their two children. She shares cherished, untold memories and explains why choosing to continue loving and living with his presence is more important than finding resolution. This is an invitation to witness a love that continues out loud and know you are not alone in your own journey.
I am sharing my experience of loving the same man for 32 years, a mother to two adult children, a retired military officer, a breast cancer survivor, and my connections with others.
Anyone experiencing suicidal thoughts should reach out to a suicide hotline or local emergency number in their country: Psychology Today Suicide Hotlines and Prevention Resources Around the World.
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Remembering Who You Were To Me Before You Became A Memory With Dr. Tina Fornwald
A Love Story Continues Out Loud: March Dedication
Before we begin, I want to name what this month is. For March, I am dedicating this show to my late husband, Mark Fornwald. Years ago, on March 11th, 2017, my life changed forever when he left this world. Rather than letting that date pass quietly or privately, I’ve chosen to honor him, my grief, and my love here in this space across March.
This is going to feel a little different than my usual episodes. Some of what you’ll read this month will be spoken directly to Mark. Some of it will be spoken to you. Sometimes, you’ll simply be reading as love continues out loud. I’m not here this month to teach grief, analyze it, or package it into something tidy. I’m here to honor a relationship, what remains after loss, how love changes and shapes, and how we become when someone we love is no longer physically here.
Reclaiming His Story: How People Talk About Mark Now
If this is your first time tuning in, you don’t need to catch up or prepare. You’re welcome to tune in quietly, emotionally, or in pieces. There was no right way to be here. Mark, I’m talking to you, allowing others to read along. My first question, Mark, do you know how people talk about you now? They talk about you as my late husband, this man that I loved in person for 32 years, and the man who is no longer here.
They talk about you as Tina’s late husband and Catherine and Alexander’s dad, who has died. They talk about you as the man who was a great hunter, the man who is the inspiration for that tattoo on my right thigh, the man who has taught me how to love, and the man who is the inspiration for Widowhood Real Talk with Tina, a nonprofit that I started to support other people who are grieving.
People talk about you and laugh. Kim and Lionel have a joke about when they’re in their house, and they pull out a chair, and they find it, they say, “Mark left it there.” Kim and Lionel are my children’s godparents. Mark stayed with them one time when he was traveling for work. He would always leave the chair out. He would never scoot it underneath the table. To this day, Kim and Lionel will say, “Mark, did you do that?” because that means that one of them left the chair out. Those are some of the ways that people talk about you, my love.
Beyond The Ending: Honoring How He Lived, Not How He Died
Do you know how often you are remembered through the lenses of how you died, not how you lived? People I will meet, Mark, will say, “He died?” Instantly, they will ask how you died. I go into the long story about how I was supposed to have a work trip, but then I felt God pressing me not to go. I called you and asked you, “Did you want to get together?” You said yes because we hadn’t seen each other in a couple of months.
Do you know how often you are remembered through the lenses of how you died, not how you lived? Share on XWe got together, and we got lost. We went to the movies. You had Chinese food for your last dinner. In my mind, I was thinking, “I know he wishes he had had steak and potatoes.” I can envision you. I’m telling them this long story. The next day, you weren’t feeling well. You went to have breakfast, and then you had a heart attack in our hotel room and never got up from that. I was at the end of the hallway, screaming into the phone to my sister and saying, “I love you. How can you no longer? How can this be? How is this possible?”
That’s the thing that people want to know. Not how you were an amazing husband and not the things that you did, but how you died. I don’t know the fascination or curiosity. I do it myself. I ask people, “How did they pass?” I guess it’s something we do, but when I’m having this conversation with you and looking at these questions, it seems irrelevant. You died, and that is the most important part.
32 Years Of Love: Who You Were To Me Before Grief Entered The Room
Do you know who you were to me before grief entered the room? I remember after you passed, Mark, and asking the kids, “Do you think Daddy knows how much I loved him?” In my mind, I wanted to know the answer was that you knew, but I wasn’t 1000% certain. I want you to know, Mark, you were so much to me. It seems impossible to think about how much you were to me.
I met you when I was eighteen years old. I was in the Military. I’d been to basic training bootcamp, but I went to the Military early. I was 18 when we met, and I was 48 or 49 when you left this world. You became my husband, my friend, and my lover. You taught me how to drive in the dark. You were the first person to show me how to use my high beam. I lived in Chicago. The idea of what high beams were is something I never knew about. You showed me how to travel the world. You showed me how to be strong in my own image. You showed me how to be my authentic self, and I love you for that.
I became a mom because of you. I learned how to be a housewife. I stayed home full-time with our children, and you went to work and supported my desire to care for our children full-time. You were the provider. You made me feel safe. You made me feel loved. You made me feel worthy of being loved and who I am in myself. I’m grateful to you for that, Mark. Thank you.
The Cherished Detail: What I Miss That No One Ever Asks About
Do you know what I miss that no one ever asks about? I can’t say no one ever asks about it, but one thing that I miss is your inability to finish a story without that hyena laugh. You would tell us a joke. In our house, as you know, Mark, we had this game called Who Was the Funniest. Whether it was dinner or lunch, there was one meal that we would have together as a family, where we would come together and try to bring our funniest moment from that day. Whoever won had this “honor” or trophy, which was invisible, to say that they were the funniest person.
Mark, when you would come to that table, we would know that you had something to share because you were busting and beaming. You would come to the table laughing. You would tell a part of the story, and then you would start laughing. I don’t know if we ever heard the end of it. We declared you the funniest because it was hilarious watching you try to tell a story and never be able to end it, and laughing as we were trying to pull the story out of you.
Catherine, Alexander, and I talk about that on a regular basis. We don’t ask about it, but it is something that we cherish. It’s not something a lot of people knew besides the family and us, because it was a family moment. I miss those moments. I miss you telling a story and laughing so hard that we’re all infectiously laughing, not knowing what the punch line was, but knowing that you knew. Eventually, we would get the story. Those were good times.
Shaped By Love: Why Loving You Mattered More Than Losing You
Do you know that loving you shaped me more than losing you ever did? Loving Mark Fornwald shaped me more than losing him. I became the woman I am because of you. I became the mother that I am because of you. I became confident and strong because of your love. You always made me feel accepted, wanted, and valued. You made me feel like I was enough. I didn’t look and say, “I’m married to this White guy.” You were just Mark to me.
When you purchased a card for graduation from my undergrad, and you could not find a card that you liked enough, and you colored her brown, I was like, “This man sees me.” You saw that I was enough. You saw my strength. One of the things that’s so important to me is that you never made me dull my light for you to be a strong man. You were confident in your own quietness, your strength, and who you were, which allowed me to show up in life, be who I am without any questions and doubts, and be who I am and be strong in that.
You allowed me to be the full force of who I was. You encouraged me to become an officer in the United States Army. You cared for me when I was dealing with breast cancer. You told me that I would be okay. You were my strength. You made me believe in myself in a way that I don’t think would have ever been possible if I had not been your wife. We spent 32 years of life together.
I’m interviewing myself, so I had to have questions together already. I made sure that after I wrote these questions out, a couple of weeks had passed, so they’re not fresh in my mind as I’m having this conversation. In this part of the show, I am shifting to you, the reader. Why did I dedicate March to Mark? It’s the month he died. It’s the month that is the most triggering to me. It is the month that gives me pause.
As soon as January comes, I start thinking, “What year has it been since I’ve heard Mark’s voice?” This year, in March 2026, it will be 9 years. It will be 9 years since I held his hand and 9 years since that day I crawled up on that table and screamed so much. I spent a lot of time holding space for people and their stories and sharing their memories. I wanted to honor Mark because his life is why I do the work that I do. The meaning that he has had to me has created a level of empathy that would have never been possible if it wasn’t for loving him and for also his life transitioning from here.
Why am I choosing to speak to him and not just about him? It’s because I still talk to Mark. There are things that happen, and I will be like, “Your children, you made these. This was a team.” I’ll talk to Catherine and Alex. I’ll talk to them, and I’ll talk to Mark because I believe that his energy still exists in some form or fashion.
If nothing else, it’s healthy for me to release and talk about him to him. I still love saying his name. I don’t want our love to be stuck in my throat and inside of me like it never existed. In all transparency, in this conversation for the month of March, I am speaking to you and speaking to Mark because that’s how I wanted to express this month and my love that continues for him.
What I hope the audience feel, not learn, from this space is I want the audience to feel that I still grieve. I still miss my husband, and I will love him forever. I want you to feel the sincerity of who I am in this space of grief, so that when I message you or when I say in a video, “We are on this journey together,” then you know that’s true. You may see me and go, “Is she even touched by grief?” 1000%. I want you to feel the sincerity of my heart that if I’ve ever fallen short, messed up, or done something in an action, you know the purpose of my heart, why I show up, and why I’m so committed to you and this community.
I want you to feel the reality that you are not alone. There are so many people that I have spoken to on this journey who feel like, after a very short period of time, their community has disappeared. They feel like nobody understands how they feel. I want you to know that I will not 100% spot-on understand how you feel, but I can surely relate. Most likely, I can connect you with somebody else in a very similar circumstance.
As you guys travel on this road together, I want you to feel that every event that the show hosts and everything that we do is built around the ability to let you know you are not alone. I want to give you permission to tune in quietly to this conversation and also yourself. There is often something powerful in those quiet spaces. We hear our thoughts, we journal, we record, and we reflect. Then, you can be emotional, or maybe not. It’s okay to be in pieces, and it’s okay to feel whole.
Real Life With Mark: Late, Dedicated, And Full Of Surprises
Part three. Story and experiences. I am talking to you, the reader, and Mark at the same time. Who was Mark in everyday life? Late. Trying to get someplace on time with that man, I would almost have to give him a fake time when we were going somewhere. You know I’m right. I would have the kids dressed and myself dressed, and he’d start running around trying to figure out where his stuff is. I’m like, “How is that possible? How do I have myself ready, as well as two kids, and you cannot get ready at the same time?” Late.
He was committed and dedicated. If our children had any type of sports practice or a game, he would move hell and high water to be there. He was the loudest parent at every game. He worked for the local school district. One time, he was screaming so loud at Catherine’s soccer game that they kicked him off the field. Did he go home? No. He walked across the street and continued yelling from the side of the road. They could still hear him on the soccer field. I sat there like, “Is he going to get fired? Mark, what are you doing?” You were beet red, and you were screaming. I was like, “It’s a kid’s soccer game. Are you serious?” You did not care at all.
Living with Mark every day was an adventure. We both were working full-time, and we would often have this argument about who was cooking dinner. I worked on base, so I would pick up groceries, and the kids would unload them. If I laid something out, then Mark was supposed to think about something for dinner. The way he would not be home on time to cook dinner was a very special ability he had. Then, I wound up having to cook dinner and be in an argument about it.
It’s amazing that the things that we argued about then, how much they don’t seem to matter. We had this laundry basket. It was the wicker laundry basket that I got out in Williamsburg at the pottery. This is when we first got married. It was so cute. It had this lid on it. You would throw the laundry right on top of it, or you would throw the laundry on the floor. I was like, “Can you take the laundry lid off and put it on?” Finally, I threw it away. There was so much laughter in our house.
It's amazing that the things that we argued about then don't seem to matter now. Share on XMark was so committed to our children and was such a faithful father. Being in the house and living with Mark, in the beginning, you traveled a lot. I missed you so much because you were traveling and I was home with Catherine. We would drive anywhere we could to be with you for the holidays because you were so dedicated. You were working and taking care of our family. I would drive wherever you were to see you.
I love how much time we spent on the phone talking together. As adults here, the man made some good loving. That was the last thing that we did before he left this world the night of. He was very passionate. Living with Mark was full of surprises. Sometimes, I didn’t think you were always paying attention, but then one day, for Valentine’s Day, a quartet came to my office and sang songs to me. It was from you. I would have never thought that you would have done that.
The way you surprised me with being there, watching TV, resting on you, watching shows, talking, and living our life together, it didn’t seem like this amazing thing. It seemed very simple and regular, but I realized after you left this world how much of a treasure and a gift it was. Everyone does not have that. I remember you doing the laundry, and it seemed like you got lost in the basement. I would go downstairs to find you on the Wii, trying to reduce your Wii age. The kids are like, “What is Daddy doing?” I’m like, “He’s down there on the Wii, trying to get better than everybody else.” It was real life.
The parts of him that don’t fit into late husband language. Sometimes, saying that I love you seems like such a current or present tense thing. It seems hard to believe that I’m talking about someone who is no longer here. When our daughter got married, it didn’t fit that you were not there to attend her wedding. There was a little card there and flowers representing the space where you would have sat. When Alexander turned 25, it didn’t fit that you were not there. When I had finally moved to Virginia, as we talked about, and one year after living here, it didn’t fit that you were not here with me. I still have your last name. I will always keep your last name because it wouldn’t fit any other way for me.
The version of myself that existed inside that relationship is something that will never happen again. I was who I was because of loving you. That young, innocent girl, having children together, living life, being in the Army together, and you pinning me as I was promoted, those experiences shaped who I am, and I have no regrets. I am so grateful that I met you. I am so grateful for this version of myself. Being such a person expecting relationships to be good, expecting to be in a place of peace and to be supported, and expecting to feel safe, that became because of you, and I am grateful for that.
The Gift Of Grief: Why Remembering The Whole Person Matters
Why does remembering the whole person matter in grief for me? If not, I would focus on the horrible moment when you died. If I didn’t think of everything that you were to me when you were alive, I would not be able to think past the moment you died. I would not be able to cherish 32 years of life together. It would all be swallowed up by your death.
You mean way more to me than the moment that you died. There’s so much more to honor, and I am looking forward to sharing in this month of March. You were good to me. You were an amazing husband. You were a good friend. You were a good uncle and brother. Your life deserves to be honored and cherished. It is important to me to remember who you were to our children and to this world.
The amazing number of people that showed up to your service, the church could not hold them all. Many people came. I watched my brother break down and cry. I watched my siblings rally, and your siblings being there in devastation because of who you were. That’s what made it so hard. It’s not that somebody died, but you, Mark Forwald, left this world, and it left a hole that nobody could feel.
What happens when grief is allowed to be relational? For me, it gives permission to talk. It gives permission for other people to say, “Their death was hard, but I can still remember the amazing person that they were.” I can still remember the life that we had together. I’m not alone. Other people are grieving. What I’m going through is natural. There’s nothing wrong with me because I still talk to my husband 9, 10, 20, 30, 40, or 50 years later. This is what life looks like.
I don’t have to hide in a corner somewhere, acting like this has not happened, and this is not the experience that I’m going through. In every conversation that I have on this show, it is intentional for you to know you are not alone. If you are tuning in and missing someone, what I hope is that you permit yourself to be honest that they are worth missing, and that you still love them. That’s okay.
It is intentional for you to know you are not alone. Share on XMark, thank you for the life we shared. Thank you for shaping who I have become. Thank you for still being present in quiet ways. As I close, I want this conversation to end where it began with you, Mark. This month isn’t about moving on or finding a resolution. It’s about continuing to love, continuing to remember, and continuing to live with what mattered most. Thank you for the life we shared. Thank you for the ways you shaped me and for how you still love. Your presence and your being still show up in my life. To those tuning in, thank you for holding space for me. Nothing needs to be fixed here. Nothing needs to be wrapped up. We’ll still continue this conversation throughout the month of March.
