Twisting. Writhing. Hurting. Shrieking. Vomit urge. Nerves on skin. Racing pulse. Butterfly stomach. Dislocated. Disoriented. Discombobulated. Longing. Yearning. Starving. Reaching. Empty arms. Full heart. Meat-slicer in chest. Passion with no place to go. Love with no release. Wandering. Roaming. Searching.
Blog
The First Mother’s Day
Two days ago, I experienced my first Mother’s Day without Megan. Had you asked me back in January how I would have handled it, I would have expressed sheer terror at the prospect. At that time, just two months since losing her, all I could imagine was that I would be an emotional train wreck, and would probably have just called my mother and…
Nero’s Cry
This week, on an animal sanctuary in Southern Spain, I am surrounded by rock, and the nude, bare earth echoes the inner emptiness I feel. In England, all that green and growing doesn’t match my insides. Here, this rock, this heat, this rugged blend of pine and desert wildflower, poking up from parched earth, speaks to my spirit. Here, amongst this…
My Two Mother’s Day
I have struggled with Mother’s Day all my life. I lost my own mother when I was nine, many of you know. I don’t really remember my father knowing what to do with that day anymore afterwards. We had no other family around to celebrate, and so it just kind of became a non-holiday in our house. I sometimes wish we had continued to make it about her -…
Writer’s Block
NOTE: I wanted to start my post this week by thanking everyone who left such lovely and supportive messages on my last piece – Scared of the Anger. To receive your support after allowing myself to be so vulnerable really warmed my heart. I love our widowed community! — At every week’s end, I sit down to write this blog and sometimes…
Forgetting the Pieces
Tonight is opening night of the theater show at Adelphi University that I have been directing and writing for the past month. I am unbelievably proud of this show, it is hilarious and even poignant in parts, and of course I am missing my husband like mad right now. I want him here for this. I want him to be standing there after the first show ends,…
Just Another Day
Sitting here at what used to be Mike’s desk, in what used to be his chair, looking out what used to be his window, his view…noticing the neighbor’s trees, full of pink plumeria blossoms and hanging heavy with green mangoes, hundreds and hundreds of them…a cardinal stops to peck at the fruit on the papaya tree outside, and the banana leaves…
Here and Not. Me and Not.
I know I’m not actually a split personality. I haven’t disassociated from my body. There is nothing really wrong with me because what I’m going through is normal. I know this. This grief, though. Whoa. My brain sometimes slips into my consciousness the suspicion that maybe I am a split personality. Or whatever word it is that would…
My vs Our
Driving to the supermarket last week I had the overwhelming feeling that this baby is very much an addition to our family. To Ian and I’s family. Although in no way is the baby a replacement for Ian, as the pregnancy progresses it feels like Ian is less distant now. There is a feeling of completeness, not end, not ‘over it’, but very much…
Reach Deep, Find Warmth
I have been nestled inside the winter for months, it seems. It has been so cold and dark. Even today, at the end of April, spring struggles to gain a grip, the wind and rain overtaking its warm and promising breezes, painting the hilltops white, again, pouring pellets of icy hail onto the ground. This weekend, there are predictions of frost.
Stumbling Proudly
I’ve been feeling the strains of beginning anew lately. Let’s face it – starting to date someone is always messy. New person, new energy, new triggers and sensitivities. But being widowed makes it even trickier. After almost 3 years without a man by my side… I am a completely different person than who I was with Drew. I am far more independent. I…
Scared of the Anger
It’s been a year, nine months, one week and two days since my husband took his life and I’m only now just starting to feeling angry. Even typing that, makes me ill. I’m very much NOT ok with feeling angry. When he first died, I had a fleeting moment of thinking ‘how could he have made this decision for us, without consulting me!?’ and…