I wrote this piece on Tuesday evening, after a very profound phone session with my grief-therapist, in which we talked about a horrible dream I had awhile back , where Don was still alive – and told me he wanted a divorce, and that he didn’t love me, and that he had never loved me. I honestly had no idea what that dream meant, or why I would dream…
Many years ago Mike and I were having lunch at a local restaurant here in Kona when a bevy of ladies filed in all dressed up in purple dresses and big red hats. I stared, mouth agape, in utter astonishment and fascination. What were they doing coming out dressed like that? It was the first time I’d seen the Red Hatters and I was instantly…
I’m almost in Tampa for Camp Widow, arriving early from Arizona. This has been a long road trip for me, and taxing in a different way from my previous travels, emotionally. Perhaps it’s the knowing that this really will be for me, as so many have assured me, a life-changing weekend. This grief is exhausting and I want it to shift for me but…
I’ve been aware for a few days or so that the anniversary march is starting up for me again. John’s birthday, Surgery day, Illness day, Death day. A long 5 months.This year, although actually a whole lot better at this point than the last two, there have been some bells ringing that I just couldn’t put my finger on.Until a bout of insomnia last…
These past few weeks, I have been in a rush toward healing. I have tried to dwell in the blessed memory of my husband, and to rejoice in his character. I have tried to begin to rebuild my life in a way that would honour his spirit. I have tried to reach, to grow, and to soften, as I know he would have wanted. I am doing all the right things. I am…
Something I feel many people don’t understand about losing your partner is that there are many, many subsequent losses. It’s something all of you understand, or will come to. Like aftershock from an earthquake, they continue to shake our foundation for YEARS after the initial tragedy. It can be the smallest things, like the first time you…
When you’re a widow, the passing of time often feels like the only constant. When your world has fallen apart and you’ve been made acutely aware of just how little control you have over your life; the counting of the days, months and years can give us a point of focus and something to hold on to.I remember when Dan first died, I held on to the…
Tonight, I just wanted to be me.Sometimes, I just want to be me.But, not this version of me. Old me. The me that existed before July 13, 2011. The me that had a sick but random and giddy sense of humor. The me that laughed with abandon, and laughed often. The me that was easygoing and fun and carefree, sarcastic and crazy and youthful. The me…
No matter what else is happening on any given day or who I am with, Mike is never gone from my mind. I realize now, after 23 months, that he never will be. One never “gets over” the death of a beloved spouse. I think we just learn how to live with it. One way or another, we slog or float through our days, even though sometimes we don’t want…
There is no getting around the silence. It’s tangible and fraught with emotions. We can dress it up however we wish, but the silence that consumes every corner after our beloveds die is, almost, as palpable as their presence once was.I’m on the road again, headed to Camp Widow in Tampa, driving PinkMagic. My intention is to stay primarily at…
This week someone said that it was time to change my Facebook profile picture. My profile picture is the one above of Ian and I from our wedding, the banner picture is our 2011 Christmas Card photo.Changing my profile picture is not something I did that often anyway. I’m a bit ‘set and forget’ that way, but I was taken aback at the blunt…
This has been a difficult week. I have re-entered the work arena, on a ‘phased return’, as they call it, here in England, and, Tuesday, I had to go speak to someone from Occupational Health, to justify my time away, and my continuing to work part-time for a few more weeks. This meant I had to recount the story of the tragic day my husband died.
