We’re moving. September 16 the packers come. September 17 they take it all and move it to our new digs. I’ve been clearing out, getting rid of stuff, And bumping into him.On Thursday, the kids and I emptied out his closet. He had his own closet. It was such a tiny thing for such a big man. (6’6″) At four months, I got rid of all the clothes…
Widowed Belongings
Missed, Loved, and Remembered
Hi honey, Six years ago today you headed out the door for what would be your final bike ride. You checked the tires on your bike, oiled the chain, filled two water bottles, kissed me good-bye, left, came back for some unidentified thing (I still wonder what brought you back, and if those additional moments cost you your life), and then kissed me…
Sick, Clothes and Backwards
The last two days I’ve been sick. Fever. I found myself lying in my bed, the wrong way. Backwards (head where my feet usually are, feet where my head usually is) The fever is making me feel backwards. I’m preparing to move from the house the kids, Art and I have been in for 6 years. (Huh. The kids and I have been here for six, Art only 4.)…
My New View of Death
Duality of vision. At least that’s what I’m calling it. As of May 4th last year, my way of looking at physical things has changed. For example, driving into my garage every day I see Maggie’s catcher’s mask she used to wear while playing softball. It hangs just inside the garage door right where I park the car. When I see that mask, I…
My Other Ring
About four months after Phil’s death, I returned to my nail salon for the first time since being widowed. As I sat in the chair trying to keep it together while idle chatter swirled around me, my manicurist looked up and asked if I was going to take off my rings. Absently I handed them to her (my engagement ring, my wedding ring, and Phil’s wedding…
I Have The Ring
I have The Ring. The one that binds all rings together. I’ve been looking at it lately Playing with it. Putting it on my left hand, where there has been no ring for over a year And it feels…not right anymore. It feels wrong on my left finger because it doesn’t feel like… me.The Ring. The one that binds all rings together. I had Art’s…
Even Deeper ….
…. purging.Last week I told you that I was purging my home and attic and getting things organized.What I didn’t tell you …. was how deeply I was purging.You can see that there’s a lot of “stuff” in my garage, but you most likely can’t make anything out (due to my fabulous skills as a photographer).But there’s something there …. on the right…
Ghost of Art
I read one of his journals today. I read it because I sold our bed, in three hours. I had to empty out his bedside table (they went too) before the guy came to pick it up.Later, as I try to decide where a mattress on a floor would look best, in MY room, I get side tracked and sift through the box of stuff from the bedside tables. I sit down, pick…
The Smell
I didn’t mean to. I was only trying to help, to help him, because he missed you so much. He was in your closet. He came out and said, “It doesn’t smell like Daddy anymore.” He looked so sad. He looked so forlorn. So I showed him my secret. Your cap. The one I keep folded up tight, in a Ziplock bag, stashed in my bedside table. …
mirrors.
i was looking for something else, but i found two mirrors, buried in bags, buried in boxes, buried in a garage.buried. one, part of a fold-up hairbrush. the other, a compact to check her makeup. i found the compact first. i don’t think i’d ever seen it before. i held it. i closed my eyes. slowly. slowly. slowly. i opened it. i opened them. i saw…
senseless socks
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned on this journey of widowhood is that grief is not logical. It makes no sense. It’s arrogant and naive to believe that we think we know how we would react in any stressful or painful situation. Segments of our lives, portions of our morals and many of our ideals become frayed and scattered. When we begin to…
something small.
i just found it the other day, still attached to a belt loop on an old pair of jeans.it was part of me everyday for two weeks, that simple metal object, it held on to the things that meant so much to her in life and will mean so much to her daughter when she’s old enough to appreciate them. i tried to put the jeans on, leaving the safety pin where…