Much of the music that spoke to me right after Phil’s death was important because the lyrics articulated feelings I was incapable of expressing. Even now, after writing countless words about my journey through the loss of my husband, there are times when nothing communicates my inner turmoil like the phrases penned by someone else. When I first…
expressions of grief
The End Comes
April 12, 2009 Art is back in the hospital.Friday was when it happened. Low white blood cells, he started a fever.Today, Sunday, yes. That is the day today.He has viral menengitis.He’s … no words to describe. They are giving him support (drugs), helping it to leave his body.It could take 24 hours.It could take a week.I would say I am scared,…
Why?
Why: adv. For what purpose, reason, or cause; with what intention, justification, or motiveNow we know there are definitions, but in this case it is three letters that come together to become a word that has a way of haunting those of us who have felt cheated of a lifetime with our soul mates.”Why him?”, “Why me?”,”Why us?”, “Why so young?”, “Why…
the hardest part
As a widow with young children, the worst thing about parenting now is NOT watching fathers whirl their delighted little girls around in the air or push their little boys on the swings. It is NOT arriving to your child’s dance recital alone and wishing that someone was there to experience the joy and pride with you. It is NOT that you are now…
why I wear her ring
forgot to mentionwhat happenedwhen i went to the doctor with madeline, a woman sitting next to meon the phone, talking very loudly(to a presumably disinterested party)about nothing.when she hung up, she turned to me(with madeline in a carseat on my lap, anya to my right)and said, “are you wearing your wife’s rings because they don’t fit…
50 Days Before His Death
These posts are from February 2009, all within 50 days of his death and my second beginning. February 18, 209 Happy Birthday to Art 58 Days Before His DeathArt’s Birthday Bash February 18, 2009 THANK YOU for making it a great day!!!!!!! Gifts the kids gave Art thought up by themselves! Pallas: A scale, so “Daddy can see how much weight he’s…
Not Feeling It
There are many days, weeks and months that the grief that was born after Jeff’s death has crippled me. Days that no matter what I do, the sadness and loss steal over me and infect every thought and movement with pain. Weeks where I can feel nothing but the ache that has accompanied this journey and months in which the sorrow manages to reek despite…
Julie Andrews and Starting From The Beginning
Like Matt, I realize I need to start from the beginning. Art and I were married for 14 years. We have three children. On August 24, 2006 he was diagnosed with Large B Cell Lymphoma, Stage IV, primarily in his lungs. He was an athlete. In March 2007 we were told he was in remission. We lived apprehensively at first, always fighting right before he…
what to lose when it’s all lost
If I take an inventory of all of Jeff’s things that I have clung to, stored for safe keeping or discarded since he died, I realize that to an outsider, these items would seem like random detritus. Debris. Maybe even junk. I have managed to let go of many of his ‘collections’. The plastic Stanley Cups he collected from some fastfood restaurant. A…
My Own Private War
I had a flashback this week. Out of the blue, as they always come. Knocking me over as only the force of a tsunami wave can. You know the kind.I was driving home from work and it had been a good day. Several good days, in fact. Maybe that should have been the warning. But who wants to keep looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next wave to…
Still Helpless
Michelle and I have been doing this widow thing side by side for almost four years. When we met we were both newly widowed, and shell shocked. Each of us watched our dreams for the future unceremoniously demolished as one minute passed into the next. Thrown into a whirlwind of grief we discovered each other in the eye of the storm.For the first…
When Is He Coming Home?
I want to write away the pain. Sometimes I think that’s why I write. I know that’s why I talk to people, why I spend the energy to explain to them what this process is like. The more I talk the more distance I have from the process. The more distance I have from the process the less like mine it feels. Or the more sense I can try to make of…