There is nothing that will make you feel quite as tiny and insignificant in the universe as when you are completely alone in a room, choking. Nothing drives home the very smallness and randomness of your purpose here on Earth, than almost being taken out by some chicken noodle soup. Yup. You heard me. You read that correctly. On Monday, October…
Widowed Emotions
Drifting Back to NYC
…… and the relief I felt as soon as I sat down in my seat on the plane yesterday morning was amazing. It was like I had been carrying 500 pounds on my shoulders (causing a lot of pain in my neck!). As soon as I dropped into that seat, all of that weight lifted. In fact, I was so relaxed that I slept through most of the flight …… which…
The Game of What If
In just a couple weeks, I’m coming up on 3 years. That realization along with the hormones of pregnancy has really been a lethal – and emotional – combination. I found this old post from my blog that jumped out at me as something I’ve been thinking about lately and thought I would share. Maybe someone, somewhere out there might connect with this…
I Am Alone. I Am With You.
Here is a riddle: What is more sad? Going to the movies alone, or going to the movies with a group of friends, who barely speak to each other or acknowledge each other’s existence? This past weekend, I really wanted to see Gravity. So I went alone. Going to the movies, or anywhere really, by myself, is not a big deal to me. When I was married,…
The Battle Between Past and Present
This weekend as we traveled to Indiana, Michigan, and back to West Virginia in 3 short days, we logged a lot of hours in the car. Sometimes I dread long trips because let’s face it: we have 5 children packed into our vehicle like sardines, who we lovingly refer to as “the pee and flee gang” constantly asking us to stop, fighting over what movie to…
Safe Place
After Dave died and the shock wore off, the big world became a scarier place. If he could be snatched away, what else could? If I stay close to home, says this fear-logic, I can somehow make sure the last remnants of that life won’t disappear too. My cats will be safe, my home will be intact and no one can hurt me more than I’ve already been…
My Person
My thoughts are all over the place tonight. Scattered in the air, like confetti. Sometimes I come in here, to this blog site, and I have absolutely no idea what I want to say. I want to say everything – and nothing. Tonight is one of those nights. So here are a few random thoughts that are on my mind right this minute. If I’m lucky, they will end…
I can’t remember if I remember
I wrote this post on my personal blog back in April of 2012, but it was ringing in my ears this week, as I was trying to remember details and was getting frustrated about the pieces I couldn’t recover. I had a horrifying experience this week: I couldn’t remember.It started with a drive to meet my sister-in-law in Canada. The drive was a…
I’m A Professional…
…… Griever. No kidding. It seems that I can reach into someone’s deep, dark and cold grief and speak to them. I can tell them what I see in that blackness, which is really telling them what I see. Or more precisely, what I saw. I know that I’m not the only one who can do this. I’ve seen, and read, many of you doing it for others, too.
Dear Dave
Dear Dave, I just finished looking through our pictures again. Sometimes, fearing I’ve imagined my former life, I need proof that it all really happened. Italy, our house rehab, Hawaii, Yellowstone, the hundreds of pics you took of your beloved students scrolled before my eyes. I sobbed and sobbed, scaring the cat with the sounds of my heart…
Fear Didn’t Win
Yesterday we hosted the fourth annual Share the Road Ride. This is the only Soaring Spirits event that is dedicated to my Phil in any obvious way. Banners, flyers, t-shirts all bear his name. Friends from all areas of our shared lives come together, volunteers donate their time to support our Share the Road message, and Phil’s love for a good, long…
What if I Forget?
What If I Forget …. His smell. His funny lips and the way they turned up at the corner. His skin. His dry skin that always needed chapstick, and his back that always needed to be scratched. What If I forget … Those piercing blue eyes that became someone else’s eyes when he donated them to the eye bank. The way they looked at me. Through me.