Australian children have just come back from their 6-week summer holidays. So have their teachers…. The first year after Greg died, I dreaded the Christmas holidays. All those long weeks of just me and the kids. NO trips away (every holiday doubles in price during the holidays as we all know). No will to do more than walk the tracks to the…
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The Before Me vs….
…. the “Before Me”. We all know that we are changed after the death of our spouse. We are changed because of the death of our spouse and everything that follows in its wake. But how am I different now? How is the “After Janine” different from the “Before Janine”? Let me count the ways …..1. I am less naive. I know, really know, that…
Year Three Fear
I’m heading into the run of second anniversaries that begin in February and run for about 4 months – his surgery; the complications hitting and the roller-coaster of his illness; him dying. Something I’m acutely aware of. In my journey, the big anniversary for me is the March “complications hitting” anniversary. That’s the day from which…
Ambulance
In the hospital, suffering from myocarditis, Dave accidentally pulled the heart pump out of his vein. This meant that he’d have to have a new heart pump inserted. Instead, while waiting to get the new pump, he crashed. That heart pump had been helping his terribly damaged heart keep plugging along and without it his vitals went downhill fast. The…
Journaling through the Emotions
I’ve been going back over a lot of my old journal entries lately and picked one out to share a part of. For some years now I have been doing this inner-child dialogue technique… Basically having a conversation with that deepest, most vulnerable (and sometimes most wounded) part of myself by asking her questions and allowing her to share until I…
Breaking
I’ve been traveling a ton the past week and in the midst of that, found myself looking through notebooks filled with quotes and thoughts that have inspired my being.One in particular, stuck out this evening:”Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.”Whoa!If that isn’t poignant to the ebbs and flows of our lives as…
Letters from Home
My husband and I used to have those silly magnetic letters on our kitchen refrigerator back in our New Jersey apartment, and we would leave each other cute and often ridiculous or random messages on the fridge like: “I love you Boo”, or “Yankees won”, or “UR cute.” One of his favorite things to spell out for me in colored letters was “Don ‘N…
Things that have Changed
I am sitting here, marvelling at how far I’ve come since March 1, 2010; I am a different person with the same heart. I can now look back and remember the sharp, stabbing grief of that day. The insanity. The weeks and months directly afterward where I alternated between shrieking pain and dense fog; I rocked and cried or I floated…
Routine
Ian used to call me Sheldon, as in Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory. In order to keep up with the housework and household management, I followed a routine through a website. And it worked pretty well for me for years and years. To the point I’d get antsy if it wasn’t followed. Heck, I got antsy if he mopped the house from the back door to…
Birthday
Friday was Dave’s birthday. He would’ve been 41. I met him nearly 20 years ago. These three facts feel impossible. The day I met him feels like yesterday. I will always think of him as the 23 year old I first met. And his birthday keeps showing up to remind me that I’ll soon be older than he ever got to be. He was a sweet, chubby baby. His aunt…
Capturing our Stories
Today I read a beautiful article that really got me thinking. During a commercial photo shoot for a show on the Oprah Network – near the end of the shoot – one of the actors requested the photographer to take a few more shots for him. As he stepped back onto the backdrop, the actor began to sob. The photographer captured about a dozen or so shots…
Talking to the Echo
There is a space where my husband’s voice once lived, a big empty hole that sits in the center of my hours, my days, my years. It mocks me by following me wherever I go, And it feeds off of it’s own nothingness, Sipping on the hollow void, A cruel silence where there used to be sound.It follows me everywhere, But it is most cruel whenever I try…