I’m in a state of panic. This happens now and again – one of the frightening realities of sudden and shocking death. Sometimes a few weeks or months will go by with me able to escape the panic and anxiety. Then, just like that, something happens – or doesn’t – and I am shaking back and forth and my skin is on fire and I’m pacing the floors of my…
Widowed Suddenly
This Ringing
I’ve noticed this past week how very loud my grief is in relation to all the other bits that make up the person of Stephanie. We all have our memories, milestones, accomplishments, regrets…all the things we did and that happened to us, combined with the sorts of personalities we are, making us the people we are now. But when you have this…
Four Seasons
I have been writing this post for four seasons. For four seasons, I have come here, to the blank page, each week, and tried to find the words to express the ever-changing landscape of my grief. For four seasons I have shared my tiny triumphs, my progress, my setbacks, my worries and anxieties and fears and deepest sorrows. Some weeks, it has…
Always and Never
Today is one of those days that I have no idea what to write about. Not because I have nothing left to say about my husband or us or my grief. That isn’t ever the reason. No. It’s because sometimes, there are literally no words that exist , to properly explain the depths to which I miss him. Sometimes, I just get tired of saying “I miss him.” It…
A Relict Relates
In two days it will be two years and eight months since Mike died. Some days it seems like he’s been gone eternally longer than that…other days it seems like yesterday. Time is a strange thing. The other morning I was doing some organizing and I did what I do occasionally which is to check in a certain box to be sure our wedding rings and…
He Lives
This weekend, I travelled to a retreat centre in the beautiful countryside near Bakewell, in the southern part of the Peak District. Driving along those winding roads, I felt Stan’s presence with me, as I gazed upon the vibrant orange and red and yellow trees lining the hills, their leaves laying a royal carpet over green grasses. Stan loved…
Just Be There
The more I learn and understand about the grieving process, the more I also clearly see how deeply our culture is uninformed about it and how horribly damaging it can be to some of us already damaged by the loss itself. So be forewarned: this post is a bit of a rant. I can’t remember ever in my life being taught anything about death other than…
Searching for Stan
It is a chilly October morning and I am listening to the wind and watching the early light steal across the sky. I want to write words that are meaningful and resonate with others who are grieving, too. I want to speak to the parts of me that others may keep hidden, even from themselves. I want to share the broken bits and the light of hope that…
Over It
After a long day at work yesterday, teaching Theatre and Comedy courses at the University I work at and have worked at for 15 years, I came home to find out about the awful, horrific shooting at Oregon’s Umpqua College. I had sat down and put my TV on in order to feel relaxed after a tiring day, and instead, I found myself feeling once again…
Pockets of Loss
My mind and heart feel a bit scattered, this week. I have returned from retreat to work and errands and the ups and downs that characterise life in the real world. Each time I go on a retreat, I want to stay there, where there is space and quiet and a relief from worry about finances and obligations and commuting and cleaning and all the things…
Not Growing Old Together
Something I say to my grief-therapist often lately, is that I feel like I’m generally doing “okay”, as long as I don’t think about the future, or let my mind wander there. I feel okay or sometimes even good, as long as I can stay in the present. Do you know what she said back to me? She said: “So stay in the present.” Oh, okay then. Guess I’m done…
Living on Memory Lane
For ten days, at a retreat centre in Shropshire, I put away my books, pens, and paper, and embraced the quiet. I did not rush to scribble down each passing thought. I did not seek the distraction and comfort of the books that called to me. I sat with what came, and let it flow through me. In that spacious and quiet place, I learned to set…