I often think about life with Mike. I want the life and love he shared with me back. A part of me will always want to slip back into that wonderful life with him. I know that this is not possible, but I do not know how to stop myself from wishing for my old life to return to me. I know that none of these desires are realistic. And, I…
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Illusions of Control
I wonder at times if we put more pressure on ourselves because of being widowed. I feel like I am always trying to keep everything running smoothly, as if since being widowed I just want life to operate as a well oiled machine with as few hiccups as possible. I guess that’s understandable… to want to avoid anything particularly surprising or…
Be Thankful. Or Don’t. Be Wherever You Are.
Be Thankful. Be grateful. So many people have it worse. Do these above statements sound helpful to you? Do they sound like compassionate or empathetic things to say to a person who has been recently widowed? Does this sound like a good way to show you care? I don’t think so. And yet, when I was first widowed , back in the summer of 2011,…
Surviving This
Dear Readers, In today’s blog, I want to talk about something very sensitive, and that is having suicidal thoughts after the loss of a loved one. First and foremost, I want to say that I want to be very respectful of this post, to those we have lost to suicide. I also want to share my experience and what I went through when I lost my husband.
Not What you Think~
I wish I could post the meme here that had me snorting water through my nose I laughed so hard. Alas! I keep getting an error note, so I’ll have to describe it and you envision it for yourself, okay? The meme was 3 shrouded in black figures, riding one of the old timey merry go rounds. The kind made of metal, and you’d hang on desperately as…
I Love You Like I Love Mike
A little over 6 months ago, at the end of April 2019, two months before my 15 year-old daughter Julia died by suicide, and 2 years after Mike my husband died, I met a man on a dating website. He’s called Medjool, after my favourite kind of dates. Big, chewy, tasty, sweet. Yum. Since there seems to be some kind of annoying gender difference…
Coffee Talk
I stand staring into the cupboard. My eyes see all the familiar coffee mugs lined up. Though they are inanimate objects, the mugs seem to be shamelessly shouting “pick me” from their distinguished spots on the shelf. *Sigh. Which one should I select. Which mug do I want to use? This decision should not be this hard. Except…
Window to Grieve
One week ago, we wrapped up what was easily the busiest Camp Widow I’ve ever taken part in. In two days, it will be the five year anniversary of Megan’s death. Winter has blown into northeast Ohio early this year, with our first snow coming in before the leaves had even had the chance to fall off of the trees. The holidays will be here…
Another Trip Around the Widowed Sun
This was my second birthday since Tin passed. Last year I was the big 4-0 and I wasn’t ever expecting to be a widow at that age. One year later and another candle on the cake doesn’t add nearly enough light to illuminate this shadowy part of the year.“Be gentle to yourself.” Is a phrase I hear often enough and I try to repeat it on the days…
Death Becomes Me
I never would have pictured myself being so ecstatic and thrilled and jazzed up to talk about death and loss and grief. I never would have thought my heart would beat faster at the thought of making another widowed person laugh at something dark, through their tears. I never saw it coming that my life would consist of comforting people and…
My Grief as a Widow
I struggle to sleep at night. I have flashbacks of the horrific images of how my husband’s body was left. I miss the love of my life every day. It’s hard for me to trust. It’s painful to see his things all over the house, but I cannot bear to take them down. I miss feeling loved, protected and cared for. I miss feeling like I was…
Word Confusion~
We each define this widowed walk for ourselves, of course. The grief we carry is as individual as a thumb print, we’re told. Which makes sense, of course. For myself, I’ve never used the word lost to describe this grief. Being lost implies to me that I have a destination in mind. An end point. And I don’t.My words to describe this have been…