Hey babe, Do you remember this place? Do you remember how much Shelby loves coming here? It was the first place that Shelby and I ever took a hike, and it’s the final place, a year ago, that you and I took a walk. I can still remember Shelby running around, picking up last year’s acorns, the few remaining ones left alone by the squirrels at…
Miscellaneous
Until Death Do Us Part
Yesterday I was faced with another one of those big hurdles for us widowed folk – a wedding. My dear friend married the man of her dreams and began her life as a Mrs. This wasn’t my ‘first’ wedding as a widow, my best friend got married three week’s after Dan’s death. While I attended that event, wore my bridesmaid dress and…
By The Sea, On My Own
It is a glorious spring day on the northern coast of England, and I am seated on a bench overlooking the sea, in a village called Robin Hood’s Bay. It is an ancient settlement, with remains found that date back 3000 years, and first mentioned by a topographer of Henry the VIII in 1536.Yesterday I walked to this village from Whitby, where I am…
A Place of Existence
For years, I have wandered outside. When I was very young, on through my teenage years, I would often times find myself on my Aunt’s cattle farm, traipsing around the back lots, playing in the creeks, or just generally exploring the land and finding interesting spots to spend time with my brother and cousins. We were always outside. We…
Returning with New Eyes
This morning I went for a hike out on the ranch scouting my next location for a photo shoot. I started out at a particular dry creek bed. Parked the truck, walked down a shallow slope and stood a moment taking in the world around me. This was where Drew first taught me how to shoot a gun. Back when I was so terrified of them that my hands would…
There are Places I Remember
The poem says that April is the cruellest month, but I think it might be February. In England, February is filled with grey days and clouds. We search in vain for spots of sun on the horizon. We witness the lengthening moments of daylight and cling desperately to the vague promise of spring. For widows, February brings Valentines Day, a…
Brave Love
I’m writing you tonight from my hotel room in Seattle – en route to a four-night stay in Alaska. I hadn’t really given any thought to what I was going to write today for this post, as I’ve spent the better part of the day running around like crazy. It could have been about the usual stuff of Valentine’s Day… like how bitchy I’ve been all week…
Not this…But, oh yes, This
Grief illiteracy has been on my mind quite a bit in the last couple weeks. Even if you don’t know that term, you’ll know what I mean when I tell you about my face-to-face with it. And you’ll nod your head and say to yourself (or to the room in general)….oh, yes….I keep a personal blog in addition to writing for Widows Voice, and I have for…
Traveling My New Path
As I write this, I’m sitting in a plane, flying from Los Angeles to New York. I’m back in the USA for Camp Widow East next weekend and decided to make a holiday off it, fulfilling a life-long dream of visiting the Big Apple. This is my second trip to the states and again I find it very emotional to be here without Dan, as it reminds me of all…
Go
I wrote this piece on Tuesday evening, after a very profound phone session with my grief-therapist, in which we talked about a horrible dream I had awhile back , where Don was still alive – and told me he wanted a divorce, and that he didn’t love me, and that he had never loved me. I honestly had no idea what that dream meant, or why I would dream…
And Then There was Love
I’m almost in Tampa for Camp Widow, arriving early from Arizona. This has been a long road trip for me, and taxing in a different way from my previous travels, emotionally. Perhaps it’s the knowing that this really will be for me, as so many have assured me, a life-changing weekend. This grief is exhausting and I want it to shift for me but…
An Odyssey Towards Camp Widow
There is no getting around the silence. It’s tangible and fraught with emotions. We can dress it up however we wish, but the silence that consumes every corner after our beloveds die is, almost, as palpable as their presence once was.I’m on the road again, headed to Camp Widow in Tampa, driving PinkMagic. My intention is to stay primarily at…