Shelby needs to have an example of what a caring, devoted man, father, and husband should be. She is a mere 8 years old, but I believe most readers here will understand when I state that, well, I might not be here by the time she’s 18. It’s a cold, hard truth that should never be swept under the rug or glossed over, and I can unfortunately…
Widowed and Healing
Two Versions of Love
I have been thinking a lot lately about something Michele Neff Hernandez, our editor, said in a workshop over a year ago about finding new love. Back then, I was nowhere near wanting new love. But I knew someday I would want it. So I attended this workshop at Camp Widow in Tampa, and listened to what she had to say. The thing I remember most is her…
The Story
I met a new friend the other day and in the course of conversation The Story came out. You know the one. The Story. The one about how I was married and then wasn’t married. What happened, how it happened, what’s happened since then, what happened before then. Early on in my widowhood The Story was so deeply painful that I basically hid…
Into the Unknown
Along with being a writer, many of you know that I’m an artist. You may also know, as I’ve sometimes shared here, that I’ve been working on a photographic series for the past year all about my journey through grief. What began as just a small idea, to take a self portrait every week and share it on my blog, has snowballed into something of a…
Highs and Lows
Writing this up a bit late today. It’s 10 a.m. on Friday morning, east coast time, and this blog is supposed to be submitted by midnight California / Pacific time – so, 3 a.m. last night. But sometimes by the time Thursday evening rolls around, I am so damn exhausted both emotionally and physically from going to work, going to the gym (something…
A Little Moment of Now
Mike always did enjoy the little things, when we were together. I think – no, I know – in days past he looked for the bigger thrills, but by the time he got to me, he had gotten to a point of really appreciating the simple pleasures of life. I am glad of that, and these days it continues to resonate for me. One of them, of course, was a meal out…
Expect the Unexpected
Megan had not only given me permission to “move on” again once she was gone, she had outright demanded it, years before she died. She refused to take my heart with her, leaving a hole in me that could never be filled. This is why, in the deepest pit of my soul, I believe she has brought someone new into my life in the best way…
Birthdays and Beginnings
Today was my fiance’s birthday. The third year without him here. You always think it’s going to get easier. And you never really have any clue how it’s going to hit you. That’s no mystery to me. I’ve been dealing with the milestone of my mom’s birthday for over 20 years now since she died… and some years are just harder than others, for no real…
Matters of Interpretation
It’s been a busy week, and the highlight was a visit with my friend Margaret who flew in for a nice long weekend from her home in the Bay area. Her husband Dave, who was healthy and fit, died of a sudden, massive stroke at age 50 three months after Mike died, and she and I were put together by mutual friends and family who saw us both falling apart…
Wiping Away the Fears
For two years and nine months now… I have had one of those weird widow “things” that I have done. Or really that I haven’t done. For all of these days, weeks, months, and years… I have not cleaned the bathroom mirror. Not once. The reason for this is simple, and anyone widowed will likely understand. When I shower every morning, I get out and…
The D Word
Over the past couple of months I have been very quietly thinking about that terrifying concept of dating again. The feeling that I might like to dip my toe back in the dating pool started creeping in around late January, at my 18-month mark, and completely took me by surprise. After Dan’s death, the thought of finding another partner filled…
In the Ring with Grief
I’m filling in for Kelley Lynn today, she will be back next week! This post was written about four years after Phil died. It’s amazing how the written words mean the same thing literally, but six years later their figurative meaning has shifted yet again.Over the past four years grief and I have reluctantly become friends. Grief is not the kind of…