I know you are expecting me to talk about some kind of emotional journey right now. But this time I mean the band Journey. Eighties sensation; soundtrack to many of the moments of my youth; authors of some of the best love songs ever…THAT Journey!My son Johnny turned 17 on August 5th. Life has been so crazy lately (widow conference anyone??) that…
Widowed Suddenly
On Cruise Control
Lately, I’ve felt as if I’ve been on cruise control. It was turned on, set, and smooth sailing from that point on. Now while many would say how fantastic that may be after sailing roughly through the squalls of widowhood, the calm waters actually make me uneasy. The irony in this realization can’t stop me from snickering and letting out a laugh.For…
The 3 Amigos
After David died the quantity of my friends were seriously reduced. Most feared approaching me, most didn’t know what to say when they did… Some pretended like his death never happened. It was a filtering process. At first, the filtering process surprised me. I didn’t want to lose friends… especially those who knew David… but it was…
Another First …..
…. with less waves and more new memories. At least for today. And that’s how I take my days ….. one at a time.Today I drove with Daughter #3 to Austin (after a very full, very tiring day) to help her move into and get settled in her new apartment. This is something that I should have done with Jim …. but ….. you know the end of that story.
What Kind of Man?
What kind of man is capable of loving a widow? Would he always wonder if he measured up to the dead man whose image has a prominent place in my bedroom? How would he handle the mention of said dead husband in everyday conversation? At some point would he tire of having to be patient while a grief wave rolled, unannounced, over his girl? What would…
What Kind of Closet?
There are lots of things we put in closets. There are things you expect to find inside like sweaters, dresses, and shoes. Then there are the other things that you can’t find a place for like old yearbooks, memory boxes, or last year’s tax returns. Perhaps there are mothballs, spiderwebs, or the odd price tag from a purchased item….all of this you…
Road Trip
I recently ventured out on an 18 hour solo road trip. I have been on road trips and driven long hours but never to this length and by myself, so there were apprehensions. 18 hours of a task in which you have no other company but oneself can be a scary thing. Thoughts, memories, what-ifs all take full reign and can be exhausting and draining.I hit…
110 Carriage Place
There’s something daunting about entering the place where your life last thrived. I know for a while now that I had to make a trip to Clarksville, TN, where David and I were stationed, but I chose not to dwell on the idea. To be honest, we’d be happy in a cardboard box so long as both of us fit in it, but Clarksville was never our favorite place to…
Life goes rushing by ….
…. way too quickly sometimes. Or is it just mine? I doubt that ….. look who I’m writing to. We ALL know that life went rushing by too fast. But my life as been so hectic in the last day or so, that not only did I not write on my own blog yesterday, I forgot to write my post for this blog!!! So, here it is.Another wave this week …. but one I’m…
Remembering When
The word remember has taken on a new meaning since Phil died. Looking back is both painful and comforting. Sometimes recalling a specific event that I shared with Phil causes a jarring pain in my chest. These memories are often visceral…the atmosphere of a specific restaurant; the inflection of Phil’s brother’s voice; or the smell of a hotel…
The Freedom To Be
Overheard in the hotel check-in line at the San Diego Marriott…”Did you hear that there is a WIDOWS conference here in the hotel this weekend?” The unspoken next line was most likely, who would want to go to a widows conference? Ugh. And don’t we look miserable? ;)Convincing people that this weekend would not be a downer was one of the most…
Old Things
I’ve long had a fascination of things from the past…things with a history. I can rummage for hours through an antique story, thinking of the stories that lay behind each piece, and the lives that created them. I love to feel old pieces of furniture or read old postcards and then in my mind weaving a tale for those who sat on it’s cushions or…