It is my pleasure to introduce you to our new Sunday blog author, Kim T. Hamer. Five months ago Kim lost her husband, Art, to cancer. She was his caregiver. She is the mother of his children. She is a working professional, an unwillingly single mom, a bright and energetic lady, and a powerful writer. And we will experience all of this, and more,…
Widowed Suddenly
Flashlight in Hand
After Michael was killed, people I had known nearly my whole life seemed to drop like flies, one by one. The calls came less and less and with each meet up it seemed like bricks had been laid that separated me from them more and more. The lack of understanding, the not knowing what to do, or just the not wanting to know what I was going through,…
Twists and Turns
The concept of widowhood being a journey sometimes annoys me. Yeah, yeah, we KNOW this gut-wrenching, life-swirling, upside-down roller coaster of an experience is actually a journey! When I picture taking a journey, my mind conjures up Bilbo Baggins packing his mutton and tea and heading out into the beauty of the shire; not me rolled up in a ball…
What We Can’t See …..
…. 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…
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.