I spent this past weekend at the first ever National Conference on Widowhood, an experience I now fondly call “Camp Widow”. I watched in awe as women from around the world met each other for the first time and talked for hours like long lost friends. I’ll never say I take my friendship with Michele for granted; having a widow friend to walk…
Widowed by Illness
The Value of a Friend
For lots of reasons, but likely due to the National Conference on Widowhood this weekend, I keep thinking about my friend Michele and how different my life would be without her. She once wrote that God closed the door to Phil, but by an odd twist sent her the window that opened to me. Given the choice, she’d have slammed my window for sure… :)…
I am Talkin’ !!! (Or…Our imperfect Marriages)
What about the widow who was NOT married to her soul mate? What about the widow whose marriage was a challenge? Or, what about the widow who, after her husband died, had to grieve not only him, but who also had to grieve what didn’t happen in her marriage? Who faces the reality of missed opportunities? There are those women among us who married…
The Family We Choose
They (whoever they are) say that friends are the family we choose…. This opening was written by our Tuesday girl, Ms. Michelle Dippel…then a new job, a recent move, her little guy’s ninth birthday, and a holiday weekend happened…and she could use a little help from a friend, so you’ll hear from me (the other Michele) once again this week! I…
Death by Sunburn??
My (rather new) significant other is a geologist. A few months ago, he left (Martha’s Vineyard) for the desert West of Palm Springs CA to do field work. He called me each day, either before he left to do field work in the desert, or after he returned. All was well. I was, and am, bonkers over him. I enjoyed our telephone connection. We were a new…
Chchchanges….
I’m meeting the moving company today to inventory my house and take the next step in the move from Houston back to Austin. It’s a big and quick change for us, and I’ve been forced to think a lot about life planning and what my intentions are both personally and professionally.Professionally this move is a good one for me, although I’m leaving…
Teens Taking up the Slack – Sweet Sixteen.
It is Anneke’s ‘Sweet Sixteen’ today. On the one hand, I can’t really believe this day has arrived and her father is still gone. Like somehow, at some point he should have walked in the front door and with little fanfare saying “I’m back.” It has been 8 plus years. She has been without him longer than she had him. I should know better…
The self-centeredness of grief.
Dear Wonderful Widows. Grieving is a self-centered act. It must be. It requires paying attention to one’s own broken heart, taking the time needed to adjust to a very different existence, and learning to live in a changed world. Grieving requires self-care. This is especially true for widows with children. We eventually find that the only way our…
Bitter
About three years ago I started joking with Michele that I wanted to wear a black t-shirt with word “bitter” printed on it to identify myself as a bitter widow. She refused to let me, more out of fear of the reaction of my poor grieving family members than anything else, but her point was well taken. Wearing the bitter t-shirt would only be funny…
Ruthless Trust
Sometime after Mike’s funeral, someone put a book into my hand. The book was Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. Although I did not get past chapter one, (I was unable to concentrate long enough to read much at all and I am pretty sure I have a different spiritual leaning than the author), the title spoke to me. It still speaks to me, almost nine…
Contentment: Again with the Happy Place?
This picture is a narrow, winding street in the village of Stamford, England. It’s a gorgeous town of stone buildings, quaint shops, quiet pubs, and lovely sheep fields. I’ve more than a few memories of the place. I’m not thinking about the little town though as I look at this photo. I’m entranced by the path the road is portraying, and I’m…
My Cat Sophie
Every day I get up at 5 AM, put on my bathrobe and head to the kitchen where I make my first cup of good, strong, coffee. Cup in hand, I return to my bed, slide between the covers and sip, doing my best to make my coffee last as long as possible. I love this time of day. It feels decadent to do nothing but ponder the hours ahead. Now that it is…