“You bathe in these spirit-beams, turning round and round, as if warming at a camp-fire. Presently you lose consciousness of your own separate existence: you blend with the landscape, and become part and parcel of nature.” -John Muir It is no secret that John Muir inspires me to no end. While my love of nature and being in the wild places…
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I Still Look For Him
I still look for Ben. Yes I do. Not so much in person (although I do that too) but rather, I tend to look for him online. On the internet. I have read everything that exists online about Ben. In fact, I wrote most of it. But still I look, as though I’m hoping he might post a new picture or write something in a new guitar forum. I…
No Contact
This weekend is the first time Mike has gone out backpacking alone with zero service since we met. On previous trips, he has taken a satellite device that’s let him send me messages that he is ok. However, unfortunately it only seemed to work half the time and ended up being more of a headache than a help. So on this trip, we decided to give it a…
Setting Grief Free
Sometimes no matter what you do, the grief wave just hits you. You try, and try, and try with all of your might to not let it happen again for whatever reason you give yourself: You’re supposed to be the strong one. You’ve cried enough, it’s time to stop now. You don’t want to feel this anymore. Love, the real thing, is eternal. …
The Jury Has Made a Decision …
As a widowed person, I sometimes feel as if I’m been convicted of something. Perhaps I did something wrong, and I just dont remember. Being widowed is sort of like having to plead your case, take the Fifth, plead insanity, to a Jury of your “peers”, over and over and over Again. For some reason, when you become widowed, people seem to…
Inward and Outward
Mike is everywhere, and nowhere. I feel him in my bones, like a part of my own body. He haunts my every waking hour. I never forget. It never slips my mind that my husband is dead. I can’t stop the memories that flood in. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing. Shopping, celebrating a holiday, watching his birthday come and go,…
Untitled
I’m on the other side of the three year mark at this point. I can watch a movie where an actor is hospitalized, and not have to turn it off. I can hear a song that reminds me of Megan, and get a little choked up, then laugh it off. I can even pull all of our holiday decorations out from storage, observe the ornaments with Megan and I’s…
Ben Can’t Be Bought Online
Back in my real world, when Ben existed, he managed all the money and did so with quite a bit of success. He was very good at investing and made some smart moves when it came to stock picks (although it was I who insisted on purchasing Lululemon shares and I who insisted on purchasing FB shares). When he was alive I didn’t think he was that…
Sitting Beside Grief
Today I’m writing about a different side of grief… about being the one sitting beside someone who is grieving. About those moments watching a partner who is widowed go through their own pain. It’s no secret that Thanksgiving is a hard holiday for Mike. His wife died just a week before this holiday 3 years ago. Hitting the 3 year mark is hard…
New Year’s Thanksgiving
This woman. Life was the calm and she the storm. Her favorite season. Her favorite holiday. Thanksgiving was her New Year. Thanksgiving was the day she reflected on the last year and told everyone how thankful she was to have made it to see another one. She was thankful she could experience it. She was thankful she survived it. …
Itching and Aching
It’s official. We signed the lease this week, my boyfriend and I, for the house we will occupy for the next year. I’ve decided to only think that far ahead, and it’s made it a little easier. Because it’s a huge transition, moving from the house I shared with my late husband for so many years. It’s also not a huge transition. I’m only…
Shattered Glass and Dust Motes~
This shattered glass strewn around my feet, under my feet, Glass that was once my leaping joyous joyful heart, Shattered as I shared a last breath with my beloved. Turned into a meat slicer roosting in my chest, Where my heart once beat in rhythm with his. His. Now forever stilled.And mine? Still beating. Somehow, and mysteriously. My heart that…