…. can’t hurt us, right? Or at least that’s what we thought when we were 3. (The above picture is of Son #3 at Disney World with his beloved band Aerosmith’s hat upon/over his head.) But I wonder …. do I still think that what I can’t see can’t hurt me? I think I’d have to say the answer is yes. Why else would I only concentrate on the here and…
Widowed Suddenly
My Running Identity
There were a number of athletic activities that Phil introduced me to during our marriage. He loved all things outdoors, he especially loved risky sports, fast cars, and physically challenging tasks. Our vacations always included exercise related activities in beautiful locations, and we would regularly spend several hours a day hiking, biking, or…
A Blank Face
Phil loved watches. When he died I think there were at least ten assorted time pieces stored in various places around the house. Several work watches were stored inside his nightstand, four more called his sports cabinet in the garage home, and he stashed his ‘nice’ watches inside his top dresser drawer. He rarely left the house without a watch…
Wax On, Wax Off
It is life’s little things, the daily routines, that bring me peace in days of mental stormy weather. From vacuuming to paying the bills, they are those tiny moments we take out of our day to do the necessary (and the sometimes unnecessary) things that give my mind a break and time to focus on the doldrums before me. In what some could view as…
Even the Vet
Over the past four years I have become accustomed to filling in the blanks on various forms…marital status, spouse’s name and date of birth, person to contact in case of emergency, etcetera, etcetera. In fact, if you asked me a few days ago, I would have told you that while filling out forms still annoys me I have learned to manage my feelings…
What Not To Say
OK …. forgive me, but I’m cheating today. I’m copying a post I put on my blog over a year ago … just a couple of months after Jim died. I’ve had several requests to post it again, which I did on my blog earlier this year, and I thought I’d post it here, too. It was a list of the top things that my children and I did NOT need to hear, but did,…
The Death March
I dread deathiversaries, with my whole soul, as my daughter would say. This dread is instinctual, and has nothing to do with how happy I am in my current life. The creeping feeling of impending doom sneaks up on me at the same time every year, and at odd times when I am distracted by nostalgia or lost in a happy memory. Sometimes the feeling of…
Just One
Four years after Phil’s death, I am still trying to work out how to do twice as many tasks with half the amount of hands. The anniversary of his death stirs up emotions for the kids each and every year. You would think I could anticipate their reactions to this day of remembering by now, but I can’t. My own walk down memory lane includes my…
When Memories Fail Me
I remember crying silent but painful tears in the back seat of someone’s car… we were running an errand for the memorial service and barely above a whisper, I asked, “What if I forget…” they too began to weep with me. Finally, they cleared their throat to answer, “You’ll always have your memories.” I find that statement less than accurate.
What I Have Forgotten
My journey as a widow began four years ago today. Four years seems like both an eternity, and an instant. Standing at the foot of his emergency room bed that day, watching his pulse rate drop to zero, I saw the road ahead of me very clearly. Alone. That was the word that my brain screamed. Alone. At first I didn’t want to touch his things, for…
What I Miss
I miss familiarity. I miss being known. I miss lapsitting. I miss having a guaranteed birthday celebration. I miss the knowledge that if I break down on the road Phil is coming for me. I miss every day cell phone calls, transmitting news by just a look, and the daily irritations of sharing life with a partner.I miss Phil’s smile. I miss the fact…
My Big Fish
I had seen this movie before Michael’s passing. After everything happened I had a yearning to see this film again, and it was afterward that I knew why. There are so many scenes that I can relate so closely with. The scene below is one that reminds me of sitting in the car after the service. We sat in it right afterward to listen to the bagpipe…