What is a park to you? A place to walk your dogs, read a book among nature, or just listen to the chirping birds? For me, I’ll be honest with you all….Starting at the age of 16 the park became a place where Michael and I could get away from our parents, sit on a picnic table and have lunch , and do what teenagers do (I’ll let your imagination go…
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The self-centeredness of grief.
Dear Wonderful Widows. Grieving is a self-centered act. It must be. It requires paying attention to one’s own broken heart, taking the time needed to adjust to a very different existence, and learning to live in a changed world. Grieving requires self-care. This is especially true for widows with children. We eventually find that the only way our…
Next Box.
I’ve moved twice since David passed. Both moves necessary, emotional, and exhausting. I moved into this house 3 months ago. I had unopened boxes from both moves and at some point I just stopped unpacking. Those that remained were shoved into the guest bedroom with the door shut. From time to time I would consider opening the door and organizing the…
Sometimes It’s So Painful … I Just Have to Laugh
Do you ever have one of those days when you think that nothing, NOTHING could top the last stupid thing that happened to you? Today was one of those days. I had three very stupid, and potentially painful, items in my mailbox. All three were from our government. I will refrain from saying any more on that.The first piece was from Social Security.
Bitter
About three years ago I started joking with Michele that I wanted to wear a black t-shirt with word “bitter” printed on it to identify myself as a bitter widow. She refused to let me, more out of fear of the reaction of my poor grieving family members than anything else, but her point was well taken. Wearing the bitter t-shirt would only be funny…
Happy Anniversary Honey
I married Phillip Hernandez on June 16, 2000. Our first date was January 16, 2000~and there were more than a few people who openly questioned our sanity when we announced our intention to marry. Divorce rates for blended families were quoted to us, some wondered aloud how we could be certain this was the right choice after such a short courtship,…
My Friend Grief
Over the past four years grief and I have reluctantly become friends. Grief is not the kind of friend I can call in the middle of the night when I am sad, but rather the kind of friend who sits quietly at the end of my bed while I cry myself to sleep. Grief may be away for weeks or even months at a time, but the knock of this friend is now as…
How Many Tickets?
I never went to the movies solo. For as long as I can remember I had someone to my left or right to share my popcorn and Sour Patch Kids with. Michael, on the other hand, loved catching the latest flick on his own. It was as if he had some freedom I hadn’t quite mastered.I remember the first time I ventured out to explore this alien land. As I…
Ruthless Trust
Sometime after Mike’s funeral, someone put a book into my hand. The book was Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. Although I did not get past chapter one, (I was unable to concentrate long enough to read much at all and I am pretty sure I have a different spiritual leaning than the author), the title spoke to me. It still speaks to me, almost nine…
A Journal Entry
I’ve been glancing at David’s journal for the past week. It sits on a special bookshelf in our living room. I used to read it every night before my pathetic attempt at sleep but it’s been a while since I’ve opened the pages. This small, brown, soft leather journal is eminently special to me. His hands have touched every page of the tattered book,…
Contentment: Again with the Happy Place?
This picture is a narrow, winding street in the village of Stamford, England. It’s a gorgeous town of stone buildings, quaint shops, quiet pubs, and lovely sheep fields. I’ve more than a few memories of the place. I’m not thinking about the little town though as I look at this photo. I’m entranced by the path the road is portraying, and I’m…
I Can’t Think About Him ….
….for very long. I find that it’s emotionally and physically impossible for me to sit and just think about Jim. I cannot reflect on memories. Not yet. I can only think of him in snatches of time. And only for a moment. I wonder if this is how most people deal with grief?If I sit and think about him for more than a moment then I feel myself…