after all that’sbeen happeningthe last week, i’m pretty sickof talking about myself, so here’s lifeas viewed throughsomeone else’s eyes.(i’m pretty proud of her).
Widowed and New Love
Sex, Sensuality and Sadness
Sex. I’ve been thinking about it lately. And I really miss it. I miss the animal-ness of having another sweaty body pressed down against mine, the sounds, the smell. I miss being openly desired, I miss teasing, I miss all the foreplay that comes before. I miss being sexy. I miss being a sensual woman. And I find myself unsure if I even know how…
That Other Shoe
Pictures of me in my current state of happiness make me nervous. I look at this photo with a sense of wonder at the fact that my smile looks genuine. The empty look that has shadowed my features for years appears to have faded. I am tempted to compare this photo to one of my “before” photos to see if I can tell the difference between these versions…
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…
Man Stuff
Funny how time flies. G was 2 months old in this picture with his Dad, and 5 years later he lost his Dad to cancer. Five years with your dad is not enough time. In the 5 years since Daniel died, I’ve tried to be both mom and dad to him…dusting him off when he falls, being sympathetic, being supportive, being harsh when it was needed…it’s tough…
Tired
I’m tired of being a widow. I’m tired of bringing the car to the mechanic when the red maintenance light visually screams at me. I’m tired of running out of food and being responsible for getting more. I’m tired of waking up by myself.I’m tired of being solely responsible for: Bringing in all the income Paying all the bills Making sure…
Judging Grief
I’ve frequently thought over the past years that I was doing this whole grief thing wrong. Clearly I wasn’t sad enough, skinny enough, or laying in bed enough. I was also not happy enough, not moving forward quickly enough, and not dating anyone yet. Once I wasn’t so wrapped up in the actual grieving that I couldn’t see anything but my own shoes,…
shadows & shoes.
a message to those who came after: it may feel like it sometimes, but none of us want you to feel like you’re walking in someone else’s.a message to those who came after: it may feel like it sometimes, but none of us want you to feel like you’re walking in someone else’s.
I Think I’m Ready To Start Dating. I Think.
I think I’m ready to try my hand at dating. I think. In thinking about the possibility of dating, I did something I have never done before, I went back and read something I wrote during my early days of being widowed. It was a post from my own blog, where I was discussing how our song, “Something Stupid,” came to be.In that post I was talking about…
Am I Turning My Husband …..
Am I turning my husband….. …. into a saint? After really sitting down to think about it and to honestly delve into the recesses of my mind (which was an exhausting trip, by the way) …. I think I can honestly say …… no.I know, as do we all, that we tend to remember more of the good times after someone dies. I also know, that many people…
It’s 3:00AM
And I can’t sleep. This used to be a normal time to be sitting at my computer fingers tapping, and tears streaming down my face. I can’t count the number of times my feelings have been pounded out on my keyboard, but its been a good long time since the familiar ache of missing Phil has kept me awake into the wee hours of the morning. My heart is…
Just Call Me ….
Just call me……… Sybil. I very often feel like I have a split personality. I have passed the three year mark. I find these words difficult to absorb even as I type them. Hell, I never expected to live out the first year. And then I knew I wouldn’t survive the second. I often thought that it was a shame that I couldn’t just “think myself” to…