Amy Yasbeck on life after John Ritter

In an exclusive essay, the actor's widow looks back on the last year and a half, and the secret source of her strength: her daughter.

You are undoubtedly changed forever when you lose your spouse and your child's father. Changed forever. You can't just pick yourself up and move on. You have to incorporate it, absorb it and make whatever peace with it you can. You try to go forward, but part of you, no matter what you do, stays knocked down forever.

It's been a year and a half since my husband, John, passed away. Immediately afterward, I received a lot of advice and wisdom on how to deal with grief. It's all been helpful, but I've learned the most valuable lessons from our daughter. Stella, 6, has deep and vivid memories of her father. Out of the blue, she'll recall something very specific. Sometimes it's something I've forgotten about until her sweet little voice jogs my memory. Stella still feels completely connected to her dad. Retelling the stories of their adventures is her way of reliving pieces of her life she knows can never come back. Spending time with her big brothers and sister also plays a major part in her healing. Jason, Carly and Tyler may tower over her, but she feels a bond with them, not just of family, but of shared grief. She lights up when they re-create John's goofiest comedy bits, the ones he did for us when the cameras weren't rolling. Only they can share with her the way he made us laugh so hard we would cry.

Children often express their feelings about loss differently than adults. I've learned not to worry if Stella wants time alone. She writes, draws and improvises songs, just for herself. Her creations are beautiful, and I'm honored when she wants to share one with me. It is always profoundly moving to be allowed to glimpse a child's inner world, especially when you know she is in the midst of the delicate process of gluing it back together.

When the time came for me to go back to work, I knew a half-hour sitcom would be the way to go. John thought of sitcoms as little plays. A script is handed to you at the beginning of the week, and by Friday you are in front of an audience. The schedule is perfect for the parent of a young child.

My hours on the set are basically the same as Stella's hours in school. On show night we tend to go late, and she usually comes to the set. She's started taking requests from the actors for personalized drawings, which she tapes to their dressing room doors. It is reassuring to see how comfortable she feels with everyone. Losing a parent is very isolating for a child. I'm happy she is finding a way to feel like part of the world again.

In the days, weeks and months after John's death, many friends, colleagues and fans wrote letters to our family sharing love and appreciation. John's absolute enjoyment of what he did always came through, and his legacy will always be the joy he brought to others. Another part of his legacy is heightened awareness of aortic disease. Many people have shared stories with me about being scanned for an aortic aneurysm because of John's death, and in several instances it has saved lives.

One of the biggest challenges John's family and friends face is figuring out who to report to. It was automatic for us to share our days, our observations about life, and get his take on them. He loved to have us recount our daily adventures. He was as interested in the big themes as in the minutiae. People may not know that John was not only a gifted actor, he was a gifted audience as well. We all struggle with the urge to connect with him and tell him about our triumphs and disasters. Part of the reason it is impossible to grasp that John is really gone is that he is still so alive in our hearts.

-- As told to Michele Hatty