Maggie kept the beat in our relationship when it came to social engagements. She injected me into a lively social world that held me captive to weekends packed with activities, most of which were not optional. Now, without her overwhelming influence, I find myself woefully disengaged with what I think most people would consider normal life. We had…
The Backpack
The other day, a post-Maggie friend asked how I became so well adjusted, having put all the stuff that happened behind me. I was careful not to snort my drink through my nose upon hearing her well-intended question; such a reaction might have been confusing to her. When I asked what she meant, she described how she thought I had such a great…
My Battle Axe
( I’m filling in for Amanda because the storms in Australia have knocked out Internet access. She’ll be back again next week.) I’ve got a battle-axe that I carry with me everywhere I go. I’ve had it since Jan 5, 2007 when it was given to me by a doctor who said the words “cancer” and “urgent.” Its blade is sharp and still bloody…
Almost time to say goodbye
Maggie died in May 2009. I’ve been writing on Widow’s Voice since April 2011. I don’t write as often as the other bloggers because I guess I’m the quiet one. Yet I hope that my infrequency has been inversely reflected in the intensity of my posts; I’ve been open and honest and shared all that I’ve been working through. My path…
A Final House Goodbye
It’s been a long time since I cried for three straight hours. I forgot how many rolls of toilet paper I can go through per hour. (Yes, I use toilet paper instead of Kleenex. TP is more efficient, less messy and much cheaper. When you are clocking nose blows at between 2 to 3 RPH – rolls per hour – cost matters.) I also forgot how…
Let the New Life Begin
So much has happened in such a small amount of time that my head is spinning even as I type. I now live in downtown Austin with cars and people and dog walking and concrete which, for a country boy, is quite the change. I have a new job that’s challenging, engaging and, quite frankly, fun. Life is completely different than just a few weeks…
Grief
The other day while talking to a very caring friend, I mumbled, “Oh, boy, I can feel it coming.” My friend responded, “What does it feel like?” I laughed out loud because of the inherent insanity of describing something that has been so ever-present in my life to someone who has been blissfully untouched by such pain. Yet, my friend was…
Screw February
February is my landmine month and the only way I think I can make it through is chin down, teeth bared and feet moving. So far, it’s been a blur. February 14th is my 42ndbirthday. I cringe at the idea of celebrating without my sweet wife but time doesn’t stop, whether I want to recognize it or not. My 40th was my first birthday after…
Dodging Bullets on New Year’s Eve
New Year’s Eve is my #1 most difficult holiday. More than Christmas, more than Halloween and more than Maggie’s birthday weekend (2nd weekend in December.) Saturday will mark the third without a midnight Maggie-and-Chris lip lock. It’s difficult to imagine kissing someone else on that day and at that time since her lips are the only ones…
Christmas Parties: Third Time’s The Charm
Somewhere between suffering that terrible first Christmas party alone and “Whoo hoo! It’s a Christmas party!” was my last weekend. This is the third holiday party season without my Angel holding my hand (and likely suggesting I wear a different shirt.) I had been dreading the holiday parties but my anticipation of misery far exceeded reality.
Immovable Objects vs The Business of Change
The Business of Change that I started back in mid-September continues on. There’s just so much stuff to go through and just so little willpower on my part. Despite all the difficult work packing her 118 pair of shoes into boxes, only one box has made it to a new home. (I remind myself that one is better than none – and even one is still a…
Hope and Rope
After a week of being less social that usual, last Friday night sucked. Really, really sucked. I have no idea what triggered the mess. I wasn’t wallowing around in old wedding pictures. I hadn’t gone back in time to read our Great Cancer Adventure blog (reading about our last days together still transforms me into a wailing mess of a man.) But…