First Chapter: Your Ghost: A Memoir of Love, Loss and the Echoes That Remain by Marie McGaha

Your Ghost: A Memoir of Love, Loss and the Echoes That Remain is a searing, faith-anchored memoir of love, loss, and the long road back to oneself. When Marie’s husband dies without warning, her world fractures in an instant, leaving her to navigate the brutal, unfiltered landscape of grief. In the quiet of an empty house and the chaos of a shattered heart, she wrestles with God, memory, and the haunting presence of the man she can no longer touch but cannot let go. Told with unflinching honesty and spiritual depth, Your Ghost traces the intimate, day-by-day unraveling and rebuilding of a woman who refuses to let tragedy define the rest of her life. As she confronts guilt, loneliness, anger, and the strange moments when his nearness feels almost tangible, Marie discovers that grief is not a straight line but a sacred, winding path. What emerges is a story not only of devastation, but of resilience – a testament to enduring love, stubborn hope, and the quiet miracles that carry us forward when we think we cannot take another step.

╰┈➤Book Details

    • Genre: Memoir
    • Sub-genre: Survivor Biography
    • Language: English
    • Pages: 105
    • Paperback ISBN: 978-1990896408

Your Ghost: A Memoir of Love, Loss and the Echoes That Remain is available at Amazon.

╰┈➤Here’s What Readers Have To Say!

“You will feel every emotion, especially the pain, of losing your soulmate unexpectedly as you read this deeply spiritual journey of recovery. This kind of loss is painful, emotionally draining and physically crippling. Through every stage of grief, Ms. McGaha helps us understand how we can begin to breathe again and move forward. I cried, I felt her pain and rejoiced as the agony slowly began to leave. The best book I’ve ever read about grief and recovery. A must read for anyone experiencing the loss of a loved one. Also, it’s proof God is still beside us at our lowest point… (this is) a woman trying to hang onto life. A life that crashed and burned unexpectedly… very inspiring.” – Vicki L.

“A beautifully written, heart-wrenching examination of deep-held grief, Marie McGaha pulls the reader in with her dynamic and impactful imagery, compelling us to understand her tragedy—the caregiving and ultimate loss of the one love of her life, her husband, Nathan. The thoughts, the analysis, and the unfolding of this unwanted, unasked-for journey from a woman familiar with grief are, at times, more than one can bear. Yet the sheer poetry, interwoven with the Word of God, brings us fully into the author’s world with brilliance. Her deeply personal exploration of grief—from exhaustion, to numbness, to heightened awareness—is extraordinary, leaving the reader with a greater understanding of our own journeys through death and loss. This is a journey that, once entered, will not easily be forgotten—a powerful and necessary read for anyone who has known love and loss.” – Linda W.

First Chapter: Summer was nearing its end in the small town of Grand Bank on the eastern shore of Canada. Winston Windflower, husband, father and RCMP officer, was enjoying some quiet time while his wife, Sheila Hillier, and their two girls, Amelia Louise and Stella, were in St. John’s for their annual back-to-school shopping spree. He was alone except for his four-legged friends. Lady, an eight-year-old collie, was still frisky and ready to go for a walk as always. Molly, the cat, was ageless and just about lifeless as she sat in her bed waiting for the next treat to fall in front of her. It was a fine, sunny day as Windflower looked out of their home onto the Atlantic Ocean. Because it was so nice, he had taken the afternoon off for picking berries. The summer had been unusually hot and sticky, and that meant the berries were out a little earlier than usual. His fervent hope was that his special picking spot had not been disturbed by early pickers trampling down bushes and limiting the harvest. If things went well, he could pick a gallon of berries in a couple of hours, and if he was super lucky, Sheila would make something fabulous with the blueberries when she got back. Maybe a pie or even one of her blueberry specialties. Windflower salivated when he imagined all of that deliciousness. He grabbed a couple of Tupperware containers and a bottle of water and then headed for his favourite spot. There was a congregation of berry pickers at the closest picking location, just past the clinic. Bent over, they paid him little attention. He didn’t mind being ignored. The area was too busy and crowded for him. He took the trail down by the brook and then up the hill to the lookout. He paused for a moment to take in the majestic view of Grand Bank. Windflower glanced over the brook to the town and the wharf, all the way to the craggy outcrop that the locals called the Cape. Then he continued on up over the hill and towards the other side. He veered off the path about halfway down and was very pleased to find his desired location calm and untouched. He said a silent prayer of thanks to Creator and began his task. Some people would have thought of this as work, but Windflower found berry picking both meditative and spiritual. It reconnected him to the land and made him think of his early days growing up on the reserve in Pink Lake, Alberta. His Cree family would all go berry picking for the day, bringing a lunch and a kettle to make tea. He soon had one container filled and was working on the second when his pocket buzzed. He checked the number on his phone. It was Corporal Samira Gupta, his right-hand assistant, calling from the bigger community of Marystown. He had made arrangements with his boss, Superintendent Ron Quigley, that he would take the job as acting inspector for the region as long as he could stay in Grand Bank and have an assistant in Marystown. Gupta filled her role perfectly. “What’s up, Corporal?” asked Windflower. “Sorry to bother you,” said Gupta. “Betsy said you were off. But I thought you should know. We had a hit and run in Marystown. Over near Walmart. A woman in her forties is in hospital. Sergeant Tizzard is on the scene.” Eddie Tizzard was one of Windflower’s long-time friends and co-workers. They’d been working together for the last 10 years in one way or another. “That’s a dangerous area,” said Windflower. “How is the woman?” “She was unconscious when they brought her to the hospital in Burin,” said Gupta. “But no other information so far.” “And the driver?” “We’re working on it. Tizzard has a team doing interviews from the scene.” “It’s busy around there. Somebody would have seen something.” “That was our thinking, too,” Gupta agreed. “If we don’t get anything back soon from the canvass, we’ll do a media hit.” “Perfect. Keep me posted.” Now that his reverie had been disrupted, Windflower packed up his stuff and headed back down to his car. He was driving towards home when he noticed the driver of a passing car flashing their headlights at him. He slowed down and pulled over and then went to see if they were okay. As he got closer, he squinted to see Moira Stoodley, co-owner of the Mug-Up Café, the best and only diner in Grand Bank, in the driver’s seat. She was also the wife of his best friend, Herb Stoodley, who was tutoring him in two very diverse subjects—classical music, about which Windflower knew next to nothing before he met Herb, and trout and salmon fishing, which he thought he had mastered but now realized he was only a beginner. He assumed Moira had stopped him to say hello or to pass along a message from her husband. But it was much more serious. “I saw Mike Winger, that crazy-looking guy, back on the road,” said Moira. “It looked like his wheelchair had tipped over. A few young fellers were helping him get back up. But he looked in bad shape. Had a cut over his forehead. I asked him if he was okay. He told me to mind my business and went on home. You might want to check in on him.” It wasn’t exactly his job to look after wandering locals, but it had become expected of the lone police officer in the community. He may have the high and mighty title of acting inspector, but his day job consisted of part-time social worker, youth counsellor and senior companion when he wasn’t solving crimes or directing the limited amount of traffic that Grand Bank produced. Helping citizens in distress certainly fell into his ‘other related duties’, and Mike Winger seemed to be in constant need of assistance of one kind or another. Mostly of his own doing. Windflower knew a little about the man from his many interactions with him. Winger was an American and a veteran of the Gulf Wars. After he left the military, he got certified as a refrigeration mechanic and started wandering around, first in the United States and then into Canada. He ended up in the Grand Bank area working for fish plants and discovered a place where nobody really knew him but welcomed him anyway. Mike Winger finally felt at home. He bought a house and found a girl who eventually moved in. His life seemed perfect until… the crash that changed his life. His girlfriend was killed instantly as his car slid off the highway to avoid a moose one late spring morning. He was left with one leg paralyzed and the other badly damaged. Stuck with his feeling of loss and grief, he turned to alcohol and then drugs. Then he became mean and isolated. His scooter was his only escape, but even that turned out to be another source of problems. Windflower had rescued him and the scooter more times than he could remember. From ditches by the side of the road. From a farmer’s field. From the pub, more than once, when he had been asked to leave, none too politely. One time from the cemetery, although Windflower wasn’t exactly sure how that happened. Mike Winger was certainly one of Windflower’s pet irritants in Grand Bank. But since neither of them were going anywhere soon, they had figured out how to survive, if not get along, together. The biggest issue that Windflower had with Winger these days wasn’t that he smoked weed. Heck, that was so legal that Windflower could imbibe if he chose to. He didn’t, of course, and didn’t really care who did, as long as they were at least 19. That’s where he and Winger had an issue. Winger always had some young people hanging around to do his errands, and in return they could often get a beer and a joint. And they were often under Newfoundland’s legal age for drinking alcohol or possessing cannabis. Windflower had warned Winger several times about this and had even fined him, but nothing seemed to change. That was a problem. For Windflower. For the parents of these young people. Even the town council got involved. But like many problems in small towns, the solution was not an easy one. There were only so many options for the RCMP to explore, and Windflower had tried nearly all of them. The next step was jail, and while Winger had told him several times that he didn’t care if he got locked up, Windflower was trying to avoid that. He knew it wouldn’t be good for anyone involved, including him. Windflower hoped he wouldn’t have to jail Winger today. He waved goodbye to Moira Stoodley and swung his vehicle around. It didn’t take him long to find Mike Winger. He was stopped on his scooter by the side of the road, smoking a cigarette and yelling at some youngsters across the street.

About the Author:

Marie McGaha is an award-winning writer whose work includes clean historical romances, Christian devotionals, and heartfelt children’s books. A storyteller at her core, she weaves faith, resilience, and gentle humor through every page she writes.

She makes her home in southeast Oklahoma, in the foothills of the Ouachita Mountains, where life is anything but quiet. Her days are shared with four spoiled dogs, a crippled rooster with more attitude than feathers, a noisy guinea who believes it runs the place, a couple of flighty hens, and a watchful roo who keeps an eye on everything that moves. This lively little farm—equal parts sanctuary and circus—provides endless inspiration, companionship, and the kind of grounding only God’s creation can offer. Whether she’s crafting a tender love story, guiding readers through Scripture, or bringing the Bible to life for children through animal characters, Marie writes with a voice shaped by faith, loss, healing, and the stubborn hope that refuses to let go. Her work reflects the heart of a woman who has walked through fire and come out carrying stories worth telling. You can also join her for daily devotionals on YouTube at @HeReignsChurch, where she shares encouragement, Scripture, and the steady reminder that hope is still alive. You can contact her by email: church.hereigns@gmail.com Marie’s latest book is Your Ghost: A Memoir of Love, Loss and the Echoes That Remain. Visit her blog at authormariemcgaha.blogspot.com Connect with her on social media at: ╰┈➤ Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorMarieMcGaha

╰┈➤ LinkedIn: Linkedin.com/in/mariemcgaha 


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