….. even when someone new enters your life. There is no cure for grief. No answer. No person. No miracle. It must be traveled through.I discovered that this week. I am definitely having more good days than bad days. But the bad days still come. I think they will always come …. though they will be fewer and farther in between. I am happier…
Widowed and New Love
A Mending Heart
Yes, I can feel my heart mending. Not healing, really, because I don’t think it will ever be completely healed, but it will mend and have a permanent scar upon it. But in the mending process I’m also finding out that it’s growing a bit larger. You see, I have met someone and we are truly enjoying each other’s company and learning to care for each…
My Screensaver Moment
The other night as I was wrapping gifts in my office, I glanced up at my computer screen. My screen saver is a slide show of all the photos saved on my computer. Each new photo brought a smile to my face as the last few years of parties, milestones, and random poses of family and friends lit up my desktop. While the images of newborns and…
Being Okay With Me
Last week was very difficult. More than one person took issue with the way I handled an issue or a choice, and one of the questionable decisions involved my opinion about the man who killed my husband. Finding out four years later that my choice was not appreciated hit me hard. And I found myself floundering in the abyss of grief once…
What Do You Need?
In a recent conversation with a friend about my interest in ever dating again, I was asked the following question: “You are so strong and so independent, do you ever really need someone else? You don’t seem to need anyone for anything.” It actually started a month long internal dialogue with myself that hasn’t quite been resolved. What do I need?…
Ready or Not?
I loved being married. Knowing that I shared a commitment with my husband to face life together, come what may, was a daily comfort to me. I didn’t miss dating; I didn’t long for freedom; I didn’t feel limited; I didn’t fear slipping into complacency. Looking back, I even miss the hard work that was required to create a harmonious union. Phil and I…
Compare and Contrast
Yes, your eyes are working well. I have actually posted a photo of Phil and I above a photo of me and my boyfriend, Michael. Why? While I was interviewing widows several years ago, I spoke to many women who were in new relationships. I asked each of these ladies…”Do you compare your new partner to your former husband?” Without exception they…
Dancing Lessions
I have always felt like a flunky on the dance floor. At my college roommate’s wedding an elderly man (he was probably the age I am now) asked me to dance. I politely said that I did not know how to dance but he insisted that it was simple and all that I needed was to follow his lead. Ignoring my protests, he grabbed me, leaving me little choice.
Not Quite Good Enough
Ah yes, the List of Requirements…it sounds so very like something out of Hogwarts, and in fact the original list Michele described yesterday was crafted by a couple of witches for certain! I do have to admit to a sense of shame after reviewing the first list, were we really so shallow? No, we weren’t. But the first list was written as a…
Good Enough?
One of the most amazing things about having a widow friend to share this bumpy road with is that I always have someone with whom to discuss the daily questions of life. One issue that has occupied Michelle and I (pictured here right after the Widow Dash in San Diego) is the concept of good enough. When you feel that life has already given you an…
Slower than Molasses
I have learned, when Anneke travels, to relax a bit. I only seem to get anxious and hyper the day she returns. While she is gone, I am resigned to the fact that she is there, and I am here and I might as well just chill. Since I have no choice.But the morning of the day she is to come home, I am high strung and anxious, and a pain to be around I am…
Finally…
Yep – that’s me at the steering thingy, getting ready to park the boat. I mean moor it or anchor it or whatever it was that we were doing. Anyhow, it finally happened. Our first fight. On the boat. Our first honest-to-goodness fight. After it was over, and we had both listened, (at least I think I listened), I said to him “Wasn’t that great? We had…