I had a flashback this week. Out of the blue, as they always come. Knocking me over as only the force of a tsunami wave can. You know the kind.I was driving home from work and it had been a good day. Several good days, in fact. Maybe that should have been the warning. But who wants to keep looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next wave to…
Blog
Put on a Happy Face (Part 1,439)
Yes, here we are once again…trying to put on a happy face. Tomorrow is my 40th birthday, and although I could care less about the fact of “40”, the birthday itself is hard. Not the 40 part, just the birthday. Four years ago I spent my birthday in the emergency room at MD Anderson, then in the outpatient surgery center, and as a celebration of the…
Still Helpless
Michelle and I have been doing this widow thing side by side for almost four years. When we met we were both newly widowed, and shell shocked. Each of us watched our dreams for the future unceremoniously demolished as one minute passed into the next. Thrown into a whirlwind of grief we discovered each other in the eye of the storm.For the first…
When Is He Coming Home?
I want to write away the pain. Sometimes I think that’s why I write. I know that’s why I talk to people, why I spend the energy to explain to them what this process is like. The more I talk the more distance I have from the process. The more distance I have from the process the less like mine it feels. Or the more sense I can try to make of…
Refresh
There are moments where I feel as if I am on an idle screen. It’s a screen that am totally aware of what it looks like when it is fully loaded. It’s full of memories, strength, perseverance, and a positive outlook that is all fueled off the amazing love I have been given. Yet, with this new journey before me, there are times when the page doesn’t…
moving on, healing and getting over it
I’m sure that as widows, we have all heard these words in some form or other. “You’ll get over it one day.” “You’re young. You’ll move on.” “Time heals all wounds.” And the like. I remember the first time some well-meaning, naive person attempted to instill these words of ‘wisdom’ upon me. I think I wanted to drop them.The truth is that these silly…
Perspective and Purpose
These are two words whose meanings have changed for me since Phil’s death. Perspective used to be a word I threw around when I wanted someone else to view a certain topic or situation in a different light. Looking back, I doubt that I worried too much about how I viewed the world around me. Things in my life were pretty black and white, and I liked…
A Lighter Shade of Blue ….
I, like Michelle, have not thought a lot about my future. It seems to be a very fuzzy grey fog out there somewhere (but hey, it used to be an inky black fog so here’s to the color getting lighter!). But recently, I have caught myself thinking about it. Even making a plan or two. And then I’ll realize what I’m doing and stop ….. and be amazed.The…
Lordy look who’s 40….
Next week is my 40th, hard to believe really. Forty has an odd significance for me. I met my husband when I was 16. When he proposed to me at 22 (we reunited after a couple of years of not seeing each other in college), I remember him telling me I was beautiful….BUT….. Beautiful but what?? “Beautiful”, he said, “but I know you’ll be stunning…
Another Musical Monday
Okay, consider yourself warned about the potential for tears when reading my musical Monday posts. Teary eyed smiles are a good thing, right? Today’s song was written, and performed, by a good friend of mine, and has been the background for a few intense moments for me ;)Kimberly Roads-Schlapman was living the dream of an aspiring artist in the…
Experiencing
Doing things that Michael and I would have enjoyed together was once unthinkable. “If he’s not here to enjoy them then I shouldn’t” was a philosophy that was stuck in my brain the first months after his passing.With time though, I realized that that was not doing myself or what Michael had taught me any justice. Little by little I dipped my toes…
renovated reactions
On the day our daughter, Liv, first started preschool, my husband, Jeff, and I dropped her off together. We helped her off with her coat. We put her shoes on the mat. Then, we stared expectantly at her wondering (possibly hoping) if she would start to cry and demand that we stay. She didn’t. In fact, Liv told us with thirteen year old form, “You…