… another wave comes and smacks you from behind ….. I love the ocean. Always have. Jim did, too. We were a “beach family”. Loved taking vacations to a beach …. any beach. Even the one in Galveston ….. where the word “beach” has a whole different definition. But hey, when it’s the only beach you have within an hour’s drive or so,…
Widowed and Healing
Even If The Shoe Doesn’t Fit, Try Wearing It.
Talk about having some big shoes to fill. Or in my case, some tall stilettos. I am very gracious, and honored, that Michele has given me this opportunity to share with you on a weekly basis. I know that many of you looked forward to reading her words, or taking inspiration, from her journey. Yet, I do understand her decision to modify her course…
The New Road
some where on the I-5 in CA heading south 862 miles 14 hours in the car in two days. Less actually, because we left at 1:00 pm on Friday and got back tonight (Saturday) at 7:00 pm. It started with a casual comment.”Hey, you guys wanna go to Sacramento to the State Championship Basketball games for the boys and the girls varsity teams?” I asked my…
Irony ….
…. is a funny thing. Sometimes. Other times …. not so much. This was Jim’s favorite picture frame with one of his favorite pictures of our children. It was taken about 13 years ago, around the same time I gave him the frame. Meaning, in “my time”, about 10 years …. “before”. He loved the verses on it from the Robert Frost poem,…
I’m Not Dead Yet
I own a t-shirt just like this one. The quote is from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and the t-shirt is from the Broadway Musical “Spamalot”. The movie has always been a favorite, and the musical did not disappoint. I was almost peeing my pants throughout the thing, much to the embarrassment of my much younger siblings. I always get lots of…
A Kind of Retirement
I love the idea that there is a time, and a season, for all things, but change has always been hard for me. I like sameness, actually I used to thrive in the familiar. But the transformation that has happened in my life since Phil’s death has taught me to accept my uneasiness regarding change as par for my particular course knowing that some of…
Wack
You know what…..The poster has it all right! Loves not wack, even life isn’t (though it has its glimpses). But death, death I’m pretty certain is wack.Death didn’t take Michael out of pain or take him to a better place…he had all of that here, and at 22 ,I’m pretty sure he wanted to live down here with me a tad longer. I don’t think I’ll ever…
The Value of a Friend (Part Five thousand and two…)
I recently attended the Soaring Spirits annual board retreat. Each year the board members get together in the same place to brainstorm ideas for the foundation, establish our annual goals, reestablish our focus for the year and just “be together”. Our board meets regularly, once a month, but our meetings are held via Skype because four of us…
Still A Toddler
Well, it’s Sunday night, and I just realized I needed to get to writing my Monday post. I have kept very busy today with home improvement projects. And, because of Spring being at my door, I have been miserable with allergies. I seem to be popping Benadryl all day long, as if they were breath mints, which is likely why I have been so drowsy all day…
the best before date
As a widow, when does our license to actively grieve expire? Is there a time limit to our sadness? An event that signals the end of our foray into melancholy remembering? An experience that renders the act of longing for our spouse void? As I drag myself along this road of the widowed person, I know that I am not done. Almost three years and I…
We Scare the Hell Out of People
Widowed people are scary. Who knew? I’ve noticed it in the past 5 years and it took me a while to figure it out. Our tragedy makes people uncomfortable in a way that is hard to describe unless you’ve experienced it. But it’s true. I think it is more than just not knowing what to say to us, or thinking we might cry suddenly. I think we scare…
The Spot
Phil was on his way to this trail head on the day he died. He left home around five thirty on a summer evening in August, and I got a phone call from a witness of the accident that took his life thirty minutes later. Somehow that trip to get to my husband’s side is burned into my memory in a way that other moments from that time are not.Five years…