During Daniel’s last few months and during the peak of his illness, he told me that a song he’d heard made him think of me, and of us, and the crap we were going through. At the time, the song made me cry and think of all of the ways we supported each other and how scary it all was. Now, the song makes me think of him, it still makes me cry, and it…
Widowed
My Love of Headstones
I used to be afraid of cemeteries. Well, not exactly afraid, but I thought they were creepy. Walking around a place that held lots of dead bodies made me nervous. I would step gingerly around the headstones, being careful not to tread anywhere I thought a person might be laid to rest, and wondering how far out I needed to step to avoid the entire…
There Are No Words
There have been many times since Phil’s death that words have escaped me. When asked how I was in the early days my answer was often a dumbfounded stare. What words could be used to describe the pain that was ripping through my body at that moment? A client of mine once asked, “Do you just miss him like crazy?” I was so relieved to be asked a…
Songs
Songs. From the time Michael was killed I remember leaning on music and songs to help speak the words I was feeling, and in a way, let my self realize the reality in front of me. Sara McLachlan’s “Angel” or ” I Will Remember You” Goo Goo Doll’s “Iris”. James Blunt’s “Goodbye My Lover”….. and the list goes on. All were songs I played on repeat in…
It Is What It Is
I was complaining to my daughter (yes I complain still!) as I was filling out a financial aid form for private school, that I didn’t like doing it and that I wanted to be the rich one instead of the not rich one. And maybe I would see if there was any possible way we could afford it so that I wouldn’t have to apply for assistance. The school is…
The Road Less Traveled.
I had no clue what to blog about today. I’ve been processing many things the past few weeks… but no idea how to begin expressing any of it in words. This quote was read to me this morning… (thanks, WSM!) and I believe it helped me sum up my findings: “All of life is a journey. Which paths we take, what we look back on, and what we look…
Counting the Months
When Jim and I were PK (pre-kids) we used to laugh at parents who gave their children’s ages in weeks or months. Jim thought it was ridiculous that a person would say “8 weeks” instead of 2 1/2 months …. or better yet …. why not just round it down or up to 2 or 3 months. And then …. there were the parents who’d say a child was 20 months. We’d…
Not Quite Good Enough
Ah yes, the List of Requirements…it sounds so very like something out of Hogwarts, and in fact the original list Michele described yesterday was crafted by a couple of witches for certain! I do have to admit to a sense of shame after reviewing the first list, were we really so shallow? No, we weren’t. But the first list was written as a…
Good Enough?
One of the most amazing things about having a widow friend to share this bumpy road with is that I always have someone with whom to discuss the daily questions of life. One issue that has occupied Michelle and I (pictured here right after the Widow Dash in San Diego) is the concept of good enough. When you feel that life has already given you an…
Widow Extreme Self-Care – Time Tips
A warm hello to my fellow widows, Many of us widows are juggling lots of balls. I know I am. Just when I believe that I have gotten into a good routine…bam…something can come along to throw me off track or be a cause of frustration. It can be a new change of sort either at work or at home. Now, for example, summer is ending, school is beginning…
I Honk For Love
I love LOVE. I love how it makes a person feel. I love the glow that quietly shows itself in the scrunch of your eyes or smile on one’s mouth. I love the feeling of invincibility that it instills in those who are in its grasp. And more than anything, I love when it is 100 percent, Grade A, TRUE LOVE. The kind that has no doubts or questions, the…
Slower than Molasses
I have learned, when Anneke travels, to relax a bit. I only seem to get anxious and hyper the day she returns. While she is gone, I am resigned to the fact that she is there, and I am here and I might as well just chill. Since I have no choice.But the morning of the day she is to come home, I am high strung and anxious, and a pain to be around I am…