Fifteen more sleeps in this house of mine and then I have the rest of my life somewhere else.
Widowed Belongings
Less is More
My worldly possessions feel heavy. They are housed in my home and chain me to a life that I no longer wish to participate in. I don’t give a shit about the stuff on my walls or the sofa across from me. It is all meaningless to me. What can it do for me? What does it do for anyone really?
Moving forward, I do not want things. What matters to me is the feel of things, not the actual things. I want to live a full and joy filled life that draws inspiration from experiences – not stuff. And, sure, it is true, I do like nice things; but material things do not fill my heart with happiness. In fact, my worldly possessions feel weighty to me. They feel like a burden to me. In the near future, I hope to travel and I do not want to have to worry about storing my things while I am gone. To me, more is less.
Bachelor of Grief
I never wanted to apply and enroll here at Widowed University. I’ve always been opened to learning more in life but I never wanted this education. Like I said last week, the build up to Clayton’s death day is one of the hardest times of the year for me. Two years last April I got […]
The Right Move…
…when I move, I will concentrate on raising up the new me. It is cool. It is not lost on me that the roles are reversed. This time, it is me, not my children, who will “grow up” and into myself in the new house. It is my turn to focus on my own identity and sense of well being. It is my time to become the person I am meant to be.
Grief Gifts
One month away from the third anniversary of Clayton’s passing and some moments it feels like it was just yesterday. Each year has had its challenges and this year I’ve lost our cat Stallone. I’ve written before that it’s the build up to certain dates that’s worse then the actual days themselves. Each season has […]
Eighty-sixed from Life
This time buying feels different. It feels like I am attempting to fix a wrongdoing.
The wrongdoing being Mike’s death… Moving is a big step in the direction of righting my alternate life. It is forward motion. It is acknowledgement of the permanence of his death. It is necessary and it is a good thing. This move is about me. It is my decision. My choice. My sale. My purchase. It is about my family and our future. And, I should be excited about it. And, I sort of am. I am just not altogether overjoyed. I am a bit blaise and this should not surprise me because I have been operating in apathy for 4.3 years now. The move just really brings into focus how deep this indifference is embedded in my psyche.
The Escape Room
Part of my widowed journey is getting the opportunity to get away from home. Staying in the apartment that Clayton and I both lived has its benefits and its challenges. He hung up the art and organized the furniture. Everything here holds whispers of his style and view of interior design. I’m coming up on […]
Moving…
And, in the familiar setting where my old life played out I was able to grieve for all that I lost. I let my loss seep into my bones as I walked down the familiar streets of our neighbourhood. As I wandered through the aisles of our grocery store I allowed all the sadness his death caused to drip from me. I drove around our town and tears streamed from my eyes, day after day, as I said goodbye to the future we never got to live. It has been an excruciating 4.3 years, but I am better for allowing myself the time to properly say goodbye to my life here. I am now finally at a point in my grief where I can be at peace with the past and I have accepted that the future will not be the one I anticipated living. I can move now. I am done with this place. I have taken what I can from it and now there is nothing left here for me.
Wid-OWED
Wid-OWED This week has been tough. I have had conversations with probate court to try and finalize Clayton’s Will and picked up Stallone’s (our cat) ashes back from the veterinarian. Now he and Clayton sit on a bookshelf until we can figure out a funeral for them. I’m coming up on 3 years since Clayton […]
Terry, I wish I’d tried harder to love you while you were still alive
I like to claim that “I don’t do guilt”. It’s not that “I don’t do guilt at all”, it’s more that I try to catch any guilt quickly and figure out if the guilt is bringing anything of value. Mostly it’s not. Same same with regrets. I like to say “I don’t regret things”. Again, […]
Bitter, Bland and Forgotten Flavors
This year has been nothing less than bipolar. Severe ups, downs, twists and turns I could never expect. Year 1 and 2, I could keep busy, keep moving and face the loss of Clayton when I wanted too. Now, year 3, in a pandemic with the world halted, I’m forced to taste the truth and […]
The Woven Widowed “What” in the Fabric of Life
“What was I just doing? What was I about to say? What is that person’s name? I’ve known them for years. Damn it Bryan! What is wrong with you?” For a while, I thought that maybe I was a little crazy. I was struggling to understand why my thoughts were so scattered and why I […]