I will never be able to deliver this letter to myself three years ago in the past. But I can post it here and hope that it will offer some comfort and solace to some of the widows/widowers who come after me ….Dear Me (and You), I know you feel that you died in the moment that you lost Jeff and that you will never have the desire to live again.
expressions of grief
Something Tangible
There is nothing like a strong embrace. It’s purposeful. It’s grounding. And, it nurtures my soul. I, along with 275 other widowed individuals, attended Camp Widow this weekend. The workshops were great. The wisdom shared was inspiring. And, all of us left with a renewed spirit of hope. I haven’t been touched like this in a very long…
Love
Hey Guys, came upon these at another great blog site . I especially like 4 and 6. Take care, T4… My heart grew somber with grief, and wherever I looked I saw only death. My own country became a torment and my own home a grotesque abode of misery. All that we had done together was now a grim ordeal without him. My eyes searched everywhere for him,…
The screaming
It started when the policeman told me he was dead. I was still sitting in my car in my parent’s driveway at the time. It was loud. It was hysterical. It was guttural. It was primal. It continued as I was led inside the house, up the stairs. It went on for a long time before I wore myself out.It stopped long enough to listen to the police and the…
Heartbreak, Hot wings, and Hope
Here I am, one of nine men sitting on nine bar stools, all of us without wedding rings. The others look a little older than me but it’s an unfair comparison; in my mind’s eye I’m still 30, the age when I met my wife. But here we are, nonetheless, peers, or at least men of similar relationship status – lonely. Every guy on every stool is…
why not?
Written five months “post Jeff”…. My sister, Kirsten, was lending an ear the other day when I was having a hard time. I was upset about the whole lack of hope and happiness thing. I didn’t know why I should try anymore…with anything. He’s gone. Nothing matters anymore. So I said to her, “Why? Why bother?” She said, “I guess it comes down to…
A long-term thing.
My daughter is 8 years old. She will be 9 soon. Her Dad died when she was 7. She is a bright, beautiful, thoughtful, intelligent child. My blog name for her is Miss K. … …and Miss K has had a rough day.For Miss K, most days are rough: she misses her Dad. But she copes with her day at school. No….. she does more than that …
I’d Like a Freakin’ Break ….
… from life. From life as I know it. From life as I’ve known it for the past 3+ years. I am overwhelmed.In the past month I have replaced 2 air conditioning units, fixed one septic system, been told that tomorrow I will have a hole knocked into my bedroom wall so that a plumbing leak can be addressed. And then had another AC unit break down…
Sinking-Climbing
I’m in a deep funk, and it feels like I am sinking. It seems as though it was only a couple of months ago that I emerged from my winter hibernation. I thought I was through with all that for awhile, and I expected a longer period of sunny days. Instead, clouds follow me wherever I go. I try to make out the sun, and from the looks of others, the…
Looking for Him
Two years ago, less than three months after he died, I went looking for him. I remembered this today, as I made a to-do list. Things that need to happen before two of my three kids fly back east, without me. Even now, the notion of looking for him makes sense. So, I went back to the post I wrote on August 4, 2009.—– The chair where he always sat…
Weirdly Emotional ….
(This is a post I wrote 10 months after Jim died. It still applies.) This is one of those pictures that doesn’t need any words about love. It’s there. OK, let me just warn you upfront. This is going to be a weird post. I’m going to try to explain something that I felt yesterday but I don’t really know how to explain it, and I wonder how…
Like a Hurricane
It’s been 812 days since I last kissed my angel. After she was diagnosed, we were lucky to live life large for 850 days. Like so many other difficult things (dealing with chemo treatments, watching her deteriorate over time, holding her that day, her death, living without her), it is so hard to get my head around how much time has passed; it’s…