Maggie and I loved to travel and we made a great travel team. One of our favorite activities was hangin’ with the locals in local restaurants and pubs. I was the shy one. She, however, met no one but friends. One evening, somewhere in Greece, Spain, Italy, Mexico, New Orleans or somewhere else, we were chatting it up with one of the locals.
Widowed Anniversaries
It Holds On
I’ve been getting everything ready for our upcoming AWP event these past two weeks. One of the neatest components to the time is the golf tournament. I know…golf….not synonymous with anything too exciting, but at each hole is a sign. A sign that bears words from a fallen hero’s wife. Words on his life, his character, his soul….even his…
Introducing Chris and Maggie
Like everyone else who shares the title “widower” or “widow”, I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t kick sleeping dogs or twist baby toes to make them cry. I can’t imagine what I did that pissed off the devil (or God) to get me to this place but here I am. Here you are. I’m not going anywhere so I might as well be polite and introduce us…
730 Days
Written on April 15, 2011 729 days and 22 hours ago… we were dancing in his room. We were drinking beer, watching American Idol and eating. I can’t remember what. We were laughing together, his sister, his best childhood friend, my friend and I. And then one of us would look at him, and cry. I tried to forget all of…
3 years
This morning will mark three years since I’ve held your warm hand. Heard your snores. Felt safe knowing I was yours. My life doesn’t stop today as it did three years ago….although I partially wish it would. There are appointments to be attended, childcare to sort out and errands to run.I’d like to lay in my bed and think of only you. To keen…
march.
three years ago, my first march in this house. overwhelmed by circumstances, unaware of what i was in for. liz in her bed at the hospital, madeline still waiting to arrive. the flowers blooming in our yard… grapefruit, lemon and orange blossoms. the yellow flowers on the vine. the jasmine bush and that tree in the back i thought was…
I Will …
The “Tired” post now has 35 comments. The last time I got almost that many comments was on April 13, 2009. Three days before Art died. This post read… —– They told me to bring the kids in. They told me to bring the kids in. It’s over and I, I, I just …. I feel nothing.The hardest part about this… No wait, the right now hardest part…
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…
Loveinity
This Thursday will mark our 5 year wedding anniversary. As I’ve stated through the years, this day has always been more difficult for me than any other…including the day he was killed. You see, I don’t define Michael’s life and our life together by the day he was killed, I’ve always defined it by our eternal love, and no day signifies that more…
My Subconscious Mind ….
…. is sometimes a lot more powerful than I’d like it to be. Maybe it’s bigger than the rest of my mind. Or maybe it’s just a lot more determined to be in charge. All I know is that it’s very aware of the date on the calendar and it seems hell-bent on forcing my emotions to react to that memory …. even when the rest of my mind is going along…
Bitter Sweet ….
…. is the word I use to describe the upcoming Holidays now. Not as sucky as they’ve been (I hope), nor as sweet as they used to be. Jim died exactly one week before Christmas. Three weeks before his birthday.My “death march” begins right before Thanksgiving, as I remember where we were that year, what we were doing, how unsuspecting we all were.
Roses for Deltha
In what has become a tradition of ours, this Tuesday my kids and I placed roses in the sand. We tend to commemorate milestones related to my wife and especially the anniversary of her death by going to her favorite place, the beach. Inevitably whatever flowers we have wind up being planted ever so gently in the sand. Some years we’ll add a short…