It’s just one of those nights. I have 40 billion things inside my head all at once, and every single one of them has to do with his death. I’m not upset or crying or even particularly emotional tonight. Not really. But it’s just one of those nights where my brain won’t shut off and I can’t stop thinking …. 40 billion things. But one thing more…
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A Patchwork Girl
“No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don’t.” -Stephen King I will apologize in advance for my perhaps over-use of metaphor. But I guess that’s just how my…
Post-death and Grief
Our culture, I think, is filled with contradictions. In general and most certainly when it comes to grief. Here’s a few I’ve encountered. People love a good love story. The public especially seems to admire and go awww when a couple long married, die within hours of each other, unable, even unconsciously, to face life without one another. …
A Place of Existence
For years, I have wandered outside. When I was very young, on through my teenage years, I would often times find myself on my Aunt’s cattle farm, traipsing around the back lots, playing in the creeks, or just generally exploring the land and finding interesting spots to spend time with my brother and cousins. We were always outside. We…
Climbing Off the Wheel
“Walk around feeling like a leaf. Know you could tumble at any second. Then decide what to do with your time.” From “The Art of Disappearing” by Naomi Shihab Nye In my Buddhist study group, this week, we are reflecting on the fact of impermanence, specifically, these things: we are all going to die, and none of us knows when that will happen.
Returning with New Eyes
This morning I went for a hike out on the ranch scouting my next location for a photo shoot. I started out at a particular dry creek bed. Parked the truck, walked down a shallow slope and stood a moment taking in the world around me. This was where Drew first taught me how to shoot a gun. Back when I was so terrified of them that my hands would…
Doing it for Myself
As far as the ‘ups and downs’ of grief go, it’s been a pretty tough week. It started with what would have been Dan’s 36th birthday on Monday (the second since he’s been gone). Despite coming up with a plan for the day and preparing as much as I could for the inevitable roller-coaster, the rug was well and truly pulled from underneath me. I…
In the Ring with Grief
I’m filling in for Kelley Lynn today, she will be back next week! This post was written about four years after Phil died. It’s amazing how the written words mean the same thing literally, but six years later their figurative meaning has shifted yet again.Over the past four years grief and I have reluctantly become friends. Grief is not the kind of…
Tick, Tock…
When we met, Mike was 45 and I was 31. He died at 59, when I was 44. Now I am only a few days away from my own 47th birthday. I think about this a lot these days. Getting older; being middle-aged. Being older now than Mike was when we met. And the fact that I will not share those same years with Mike that he did with me. He was so…
Wandering Wonders
I wonder if I’ll ever wake up again. Wake up to the point where I feel anything besides numbness or pain or his absence.I wonder if I’m okay or if this grief has become complicated. Lately I’ve been reading some articles that suggest that it might be. Except that I only really meet one or two of the criteria and there’s upwards of ten. So…
Doppelganger
One issue I’ve found with having a few people having died on me when they were younger is the issue of doppelgängers – people who freakishly look the same. I’ve encountered them for my stepfather as I’m out around my city. Sometimes the right shape from behind, sometimes a glimpse of a profile. But I’ve not yet encountered Ian…
Tender Touch
I awakened last night, and reached for my husband in the dark, only to find that now familiar, empty space, instead. And I remembered how I would drape my leg over his, at night, and press my stomach against his back. Sometimes, he would stir, slightly, and tell me to take my leg off of him. He said my legs were too heavy. He referred to them as…