I have been working really hard at being upbeat and positive this Christmas. I consciously remind myself of the wonderful things in my life – amazing kids, great friends, a rewarding job, an amazing community, etc. I don’t want to whine. I certainly don’t wish to have others internally groan and roll their eyes if I talk about how lame the holidays…
jackie chandler
All I Want for Christmas
Anyone who reads this knows what each and every one of us would like for Christmas if we could have whatever we wanted….We also know that’s an impossibility. We could sit and count every moment that we are missing our love. Every scenario that lacks our spouse. Every tradition that falls flat without their presence. Or we can try to find the glow…
the unhelpful helper
When I first became a widow, I wanted everyone to go away. I did not want to talk, discuss, be comforted, or hear anyone. I found everything overwhelming and the need to communicate with others verbally was not at all on the list of desired actions. I was annoyed by the needs of others. Their want to know I was okay or that the kids were…
a blessing for all things
The unthankful heart discovers no mercies; but the thankful heart will find, in every hour, some heavenly blessings. — Henry Ward Beecher I have found that at times, I am a whiny, ungrateful little sap. I moan at life’s injustice and cry out at the lot I have been given. I beat my fists against fate and want to scream when I hear “It happened…
a better widow than me
Last night, I finally threw Jeff’s toothbrush in the trash. 3 years, 7 months and 22 days, since he used it to scrub his teeth clean. This action was precipitated a few days ago when I had spoken to a dear friend who is known for being outspoken and blunt. She doesn’t mean harm at all but is very Northern European in the delivery of her very strong…
i dream of you
I’ve had many dreams of Jeff since his death. There are a few that are terrifying renditions of the last few minutes of his life; but the vast majority centre on seeing him again in a variety of surprising locations. I’ve found him on dairy farms slogging through the mud. I have glimpsed him on boats passing bridges that I stand upon. I have found…
In my closet
I wore Jeff’s work coat the other night – Halloween night. It was the first time I have worn it in the three years since he died. I haven’t wanted it to lose any of his smell, cells or presence by donning it myself. But with it on, I felt warm, cuddled and protected from the cold Autumn wind biting at me as I followed the kids down a variety of…
old shoes and wooden spatulas
I’ve been sorting through our cupboards and closets and purging the least needed/most outgrown items lately in anticipation of living mostly indoors again after a summer in the backyard and beach. I have found mismatched gumboots, lost flashlights, a dried up snail and the odd coin. Most surprisingly, I have unearthed copious amounts of Jeff’s…
first
We made it. Through all the firsts. The firsts without Jeff at birthday parties, Christmas morning, through illnesses and accomplishments. His absence has been an aching void….almost a presence in itself. But time has continued its’ slithery journey. I look back over the time without my love and see that 365 days have gone by and no time at all…
Death is not a 4 letter word
In preparation for my son’s first day of Kindergarten today, I attended an interview with his teacher yesterday. It mostly entailed questions of, “Can he tie his shoes?”, “Does he feel shy in new situations?” and “Can he wipe his own bottom?” At the end of our little meeting, his teacher asked about his special interests. I listed off his favourite…
melancholy bed linens
Written three years ago. 17 days after Jeff died… I have been sitting in the rocking chair in my room for a period of time each day staring at our bed and crying. I am trying to muster up the courage to wash the sheets. I tell myself, “Jeff would laugh at this. He’d think I was being silly and sentimental. They are just sheets. They aren’t him.”…
to me….three year ago me.
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.