I have very few physical objects that have survived my 61 years, or my full time life of travel for the past 11 years. Except this one thing. This pink pic comb. I bought it back in the 70’s when I got my first perm. I was only 19 and I knew nothing about hair […]
Military Widowed
Softly Spoken~
Stay with me, my beloved husband. Don’t leave me. I don’t want to be without you in this life. Words uttered only in my heart as my hand gently touched your forehead. As my hand glided over your cheekbones, sharpened by cancer. As my two hands wrapped around your fingers, stroking your knuckles. Remembering the […]
#Hashtag Widow~
I blame most everything on #deadhusband.
Anniversary Moments…
…From all that was no longer, but from what was,
Rose…Love.
Love filled with grief and searing pain and a tightening in the chest and a heaviness of spirit and a world no longer recognizable.
But…Love in all its’ power…
The Years in Time~
I write about Time frequently.
Quite often, in fact.
It’s a subject that has fascinated me since Chuck’s death~
Our Corona~
…Welcome to the head spinning shock, disbelief, financial hurricane, numbness while feeling all the feels, terror, anxiety, fear, disorientation, discombobulation, loneliness, and generalized 100% uncertainty about the future, and every other emotion that we who are widowed experienced upon the death of our person and have lived in whatever time since their death.
Love in the Time of…
In these crazy apoplectic and apocalyptical times that feel awfully like a Stephen King novel…or at least as I’ve heard his books described since I’ve never read one…
I think hard about what power I have.
I think about where I can make a difference with the power that I have.
Tracing Time~
My fingers glance gently over the clocks in the hall,
Measuring time that carries no meaning.
My slippered feet wander past rooms of memory.
Nothin’ but Love~
I frequently remind myself of Christina Rasmussen’s words…
You can do the impossible, because you have been through the unimaginable.
It’s in the Eyes~
Sometimes I torture myself by looking at pictures of myself when I was younger.
Not because getting older bothers me, but because it intrigues me to study them for how I looked before life disintegrated into a cloud of dust around me.
Over and Over Again. I Do…
I do.
Again, and over and over.
Even knowing that you would someday leave me.
Wandering~
I wander in and out of this life I live without Chuck.
Literally, of course, as I steer my pink car, towing my pink trailer, down roads and highways and byways,
Through cities and towns and tiny villages…