I keep returning here to write something. To let you all know that things are okay and that life goes on and we are happy. They are, it does and often we are. But I am feeling the weight lately of a realization. One I should have had two years and eight months ago. This is FOREVER.Not solely being without Jeff. But taking the garbage out by myself.
Widowed Emotions
A Dead Husband vs. ….
…. a nice bank account. That’s the issue today. I originally published the majority of this post (with a different title) on my personal blog on October 27th. But it seemed to hit home with so many widowed people that I thought I’d write it again (and add to it) here. “You treat yourself nice.” …….. someone said to me yesterday, while…
I’ll Never Make It That Far
I remember talking to Michele about 4 and a half years ago about a widow she had met. The woman in question had been a widow for 5 years and she was in a MUCH different place than we were (we were at about 6 months). I very distinctly remember saying I couldn’t imagine surviving this horrible life for 5 years. I remember thinking in my head that…
Mantra
I get up each morning, turn off the alarm, then go downstairs to get my boys up for school. I shower, get dressed for work, make sure the pets are taken care of, then off we go. My days are getting busier now that I am working once again. I go about my day, eager to learn all the new things about my job, getting to know new people, and putting on a…
Wild Crazy
L, my 13 yr old is taking French. The Spanish classes met at the same time as the Jazz Ensemble and Chamber Orchestra. He plays the cello. And he says “Mom, what would really help me is if we went to France.”And I say, “Ok, wanna go this summer?” This is not a bluff. I have spent the past three weeks deciding where we will live (Chamonix…
deja vu….again
A local stable burnt down last week. Now as I drive past the ashes where the barn once stood, I see the surviving horses milling around their paddocks…looking slightly lost. When I read an article in the local paper about the event, I could imagine the throat choking smoke, the flames licking the sky, the sounds of crashing timbers and sirens. I…
unfinished.
in a drawer. in a bag. some yarn. a notebook.on one page: “chunky baby sweater” on another: “cable knit baby hat” in her handwriting. those words followed by a bunch of numbers that must have meant something to her. eyes scanning the pages, finding different numbers at the top of one page: 11/7/07. at the top of another page: 12/(something)/07. a…
Contradictions
Over the past month or so I have introduced Michael as my husband in a variety of circles. The responses to the word “husband” have been fascinating to me. When we are out with a group of friends or new acquaintances, the response is enthusiastic and congratulatory. These folks are just happy to see love in action. When in the company of people…
Wise Ass Widow
My Halloween Costume Guess what I am. Art was in my head all day saying, “Babe, don’t say anything. Let them figure it out.” But that is not me. So here’s a hint. I am a certain kind of spider! I am a certain kind of widow!…
Guide
I’ve always taken my own path. I like the fresh, uncharted dirt beneath my feet, the barren terrain of land not crossed by others. Yes, as Michael would say, I lived in the clouds, a world of my own, but he never tried to change that, and in all honesty, I think it’s one of the things he loved so much about me. It’s the Christopher Columbus in me,…
thank you….mostly
I met a recently widowed woman in the doctor’s office the other day. We talked sadly yet conspiratorially. I nodded as she mentioned having trouble trusting herself in public as she was concerned she would either throw up her hands and scream at all the ridiculous and vacuous frivolity that seems to go on in the world unnoticed by ‘normal’ folk or…
gone.
it’s gone. but how could it be? i was just there a month ago… it had been there since before my memories of this city were actual experiences. close to 9 years.we used to go there when we lived in the neighborhood. almost every saturday or sunday, we’d sit under the awning, on the sidewalk listening to the cars drive by, watching the hipsters…