My hands hurt from the day from carrying heaving boxes and fixing things around the house. Today, I had to build my little girl a toy box. I will say it took me some time, but I got it done correctly. My back hurts from all the lifting I did, in loading and unloading Costco groceries in 110-degree weather. I miss the days where I had my husband and…
Widowed Parenting
La Rentrée
In France, where I live, early September, with its “back to school and back to work” is known as “la rentrée”. This week is “la rentrée”. Schools go back. Three-year olds begin pre-school, known here as “Maternelle”. Six-year olds begin primary/”Primaire”. Eleven-year olds begin secondary, known as “Collège”, and…
Clutching On To Solo-Parenting
These last few days have been a mad rush. I accompanied my “now youngest” daughter Megan, who is 18, to start university in the middle of the UK. We live in France, so it’s a bit of a schlep, and since we take a flight, there’s a limit to what we can carry. Furnishing her student digs, then, becomes a race against time and my credit card’s…
Hello Goodbye
Since the spring of 2015, I have written here every Tuesday (well, “most” every Tuesday). I’ve shared my story from just a few months after losing Megan, to now. Having four plus years of what can only amount to a public “journal” has been both surreal and incredibly healing. Oftentimes, it’s hard to recall just how “raw” I…
Brussels Sprouts and Roller Coasters
Just yesterday, Sarah and I surprised Shelby (and my nephew) with a trip to Cedar Point, one of the premier amusement parks in the world, just two hours from our home here in Ohio. Shelby has been asking to go back for years now, having only been once, when she was around 5 years old, with Megan and I. She was far too young to ride anything more…
Hard Day
Today was a hard day. It was filled with anger, sadness, desperation, and tears. I am angry at the fact that my husband is no longer here. I am mad that my daughter doesn’t get to grow up with her father, and that my husband doesn’t get to experience his daughter grow up. I am mad and disappointed at everything and everyone that was involved…
Blinders
Though Shelby started middle school last year, entering the 6th grade, the jump into 7th is more significant to me. In my own schooling, the seventh grade is when I was no longer an “elementary” student. I moved on to a new school, new friends, changing classrooms, more advanced subjects, and so on. Shelby is doing the same this year. Not…
Beauty and Darkness
Today we welcome a new Widow’s Voice Author to our Thursday posts! Mari – welcome to the blog, and thank you for sharing your heart with our readers! On March 28, 2015, I met the love of my life. We had a peculiar first date, but I got a gut feeling that I needed to give him a second chance. So I did, and falling in love with him, was magical.
Semiversary
I wish I could have sat down to write this morning and repeated my often-stated sentiment that I don’t have anything to write about…and that’s OK. I had hoped that today, of all days, is something that doesn’t affect me as much any more, because “time” and all. Even if I thought about Megan more today, it wouldn’t throw my day off…
My Final Self-Reflection
I have really enjoyed contributing to this blog, but now it is time to move on and giver others a chance to share. I thought over time I would find other widows and widowers to connect with, but it hasn’t really happened. However, as I reflect over my life, it makes sense because my life experience has always been outside the norm—I…
Broken Dreams
I don’t often dream. Not the metaphorical “dream” or anything like that, just regular old dreams when I’m sleeping. They just don’t happen. Even when they do, they seemingly are just five seconds of me sitting in my living room or something. There isn’t anything crazy happening or odd traits like being able to fly. It’s plainly…
It’s a Day
Another year, another birthday. Megan would be 38 tomorrow. Each time July 24 rolls around, it’s a slightly different experience for me. Sometimes, the build-up to that day is the difficult part. Other times, it has been acknowledged as “it is what it is” and the day passes without much fanfare. This year, it’s a mixture of both. While…