Lately I’ve been taking some risks with my emotions. I don’t know if I’m feeling stronger, or that I am learning that memories can begin to heal me. For the longest time I didn’t look back to any of my prior writings. I put pictures and albums away, and have yet to unpack them from my move last year. Yet, in the last week I have begun opening some…
Widowed Emotions
Not Alone
There was a real chance that Maggie would have died that first night we were in the hospital back on January 6, 2007. Despite our dreams, our plans, our love and our forever-together commitment, I’d truly be alone. As she slept soundly in a cozy, drug-induced haze, I felt like it was me against all the evil in the world… and the evil was…
Hope Personified
The people in this photo have experienced despair. These smiling faces have cried buckets (okay maybe an ocean) of tears because someone they love is not coming home, ever. Some of us were called to an emergency room or opened the door to a uniformed officer who told us the news that would change our lives; while others sat by a bedside day after…
to me….three year ago me.
I will never be able to deliver this letter to myself three years ago in the past. But I can post it here and hope that it will offer some comfort and solace to some of the widows/widowers who come after me ….Dear Me (and You), I know you feel that you died in the moment that you lost Jeff and that you will never have the desire to live again.
Something Tangible
There is nothing like a strong embrace. It’s purposeful. It’s grounding. And, it nurtures my soul. I, along with 275 other widowed individuals, attended Camp Widow this weekend. The workshops were great. The wisdom shared was inspiring. And, all of us left with a renewed spirit of hope. I haven’t been touched like this in a very long…
Flooding
I hate to think I need bad stuff to happen to put life in perspective. Haven’t I already tortured myself enough, trying to understand painful life lessons after my wife’s passing? After three years, haven’t I come out on the other side a better person?On the three year anniversary of Lisa’s passing, my parent’s basement flooded due to…
Love
Hey Guys, came upon these at another great blog site . I especially like 4 and 6. Take care, T4… My heart grew somber with grief, and wherever I looked I saw only death. My own country became a torment and my own home a grotesque abode of misery. All that we had done together was now a grim ordeal without him. My eyes searched everywhere for him,…
The screaming
It started when the policeman told me he was dead. I was still sitting in my car in my parent’s driveway at the time. It was loud. It was hysterical. It was guttural. It was primal. It continued as I was led inside the house, up the stairs. It went on for a long time before I wore myself out.It stopped long enough to listen to the police and the…
Heartbreak, Hot wings, and Hope
Here I am, one of nine men sitting on nine bar stools, all of us without wedding rings. The others look a little older than me but it’s an unfair comparison; in my mind’s eye I’m still 30, the age when I met my wife. But here we are, nonetheless, peers, or at least men of similar relationship status – lonely. Every guy on every stool is…
I’m happy
I’m gonna come out and say it. I’m happy. I’m a widow and I’m happy.It’s not because of another man either, and I didn’t win the lottery. I didn’t discover extra life insurance money or an extra $20,000 in my savings account. I still haven’t found a new place to live. (If you live in LA, I’m looking for a 3 bdrm, 2 bath on the…
why not?
Written five months “post Jeff”…. My sister, Kirsten, was lending an ear the other day when I was having a hard time. I was upset about the whole lack of hope and happiness thing. I didn’t know why I should try anymore…with anything. He’s gone. Nothing matters anymore. So I said to her, “Why? Why bother?” She said, “I guess it comes down to…
A long-term thing.
My daughter is 8 years old. She will be 9 soon. Her Dad died when she was 7. She is a bright, beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent child. My blog name for her is Miss K. … …and Miss K has had a rough day.For Miss K, most days are rough: she misses her Dad. But she copes with her day at school. No….. she does more than that …