There was a moment when life was just life, and death was a stranger I knew nothing about. There was a fragment when weekends were just weekends, filled with friends and movies and dinner parties and couples hanging out together. There was a glimpse when laughter was just laughter, and not laughter poisoned with pain and loss. There was a…
Nobody Remembers
If you are widowed, and you are reading this, then you know that missing your person and the life you had together is as constant as breathing – it is a new fact in your new life that you didn’t ask for, and it’s just there, always and forever. The missing of what was never goes away. But then, above and beyond that missing, is a whole other kind…
Energy Force
Do you ever have those moments, where you can’t really explain why or how, but you just know that the person you lost whom you loved most, is nearby, or in the room with you? It is more of a feeling really – rather than something that can be analyzed or broken down. Sometimes it is inside the gust of wind that whispers by on a cold, crisp autumn…
Secret Universe
The other day, I was watching the Yankee game, and the Yankees were playing at home, against the Seattle Mariners. Now, if you know anything at all about baseball or the Yankees, you might know that Robinson Cano left the Yankees at the end of last season, and signed on with the Mariners. It is complicated and has to do with contracts and…
Sick of It
I need to whine. Actually, scratch that. I’m not a whiner. I need to bitch.I am not in love with my life right now. Right this minute. This “after” life that was handed to me in grenade form, exploding in my hands seconds upon it’s rude entrance. Who the hell asked for this life – this life where I no longer have a husband? Where we don’t get to…
The Second Thing
A fellow widowed friend of mine recently brought my attention to this wonderful quote, said by the character Reddington, from the TV show The Blacklist. The quote is this:”There is nothing that can take the pain away, but eventually you will find a way to live with it. There will be nightmares, and everyday when you wake up, it will be the first…
Happy
This past Saturday night, while at Camp Widow East in Tampa, Florida – I was sitting at one of the tables at the fancy banquet that Soaring Spirits throws for us during each of the camp events. I was talking to my friend Sarah (who writes in here each Sunday), whom I had been talking with in regular phone calls and online for months and months…
Dance Class
The first Valentines Day without my husband was torture. Everything that existed in the universe felt like a personal attack. The cheap-looking bears holding heart-shaped balloons on a stick at CVS, the conversation heart candies, the kissing and giggling couples around every corner. It all felt like one, giant personal attack on me and my loss.The…
Philip Seymour Hoffman – What a Waste
How could he be so selfish? He had a wife and 3 kids. Didn’t he care at all about them? Why would he throw it all away to do drugs? Life gave him everything. He had money, opportunity, talent. He had it all, and he still chose to do heroin anyway. Why didn’t he just stop? What a waste. Pretty harsh, right? Yeah. Just writing it and then reading…
Grieving for Two
After two and a half years of feeling this soul-changing, earth-shattering loss, I just realized something sort of huge. Well, I always knew it, but I just stopped and actually thought about it, and now I am able to put it into words. It is this: I grieve on behalf of my husband more than I grieve for my husband. I hope that makes sense. I…
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…
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…