The middle of the night is where I feel your void most intensely. I attempt to busy my brain with other less painful activities. I lay in our nightlight lit room listening to the drippy wet sounds of the aquarium down the hall, the monotonous whirr of the bathroom fan left on, the refrigerator starting up yet again. I attempt to make a mental list…
jackie chandler
safety freak
My minivan has a back-up beeper installed and I never fail to wear safety goggles when required. I realize that teenagers at the bus stop snicker as I stride by sporting my safety vest covered in all it’s reflective glory and a red light flashing out a constant reminder of the whereabouts of my hind-end. And in the past, I would have worried that…
who you were
Some of the fishing companies that Jeff had worked for would provide jackets for the crew with their name embroidered on the shoulder. Once when asked what Jeff wanted marked on his sleeve (he had a plethora of nicknames that could have been used in his name’s stead), he had remarked, “Just Jeff”. When his coat arrived with “Just Jeff” scribed upon…
lurking tragedy
Since the death of Jeff, I am ALWAYS searching for reason or explanation for each occurrence that unfolds in my life. I have become adept at looking for, and most often finding, the “bright side”. Searching out the blessings. The gifts that, however difficult to see initially, reveal themselves as the shock of trauma wears away.I have found that…
flying solo
I am finding this new responsibility of being thrust into the world of solitary decision making terrifying…But I am doing it and it’s okay. I would prefer to bounce all these thoughts, necessary choices and responsibilities off to Jeff, but I can’t. So as I forge ahead with my life alone, I am finding these mountains that I am climbing difficult;…
touchdown
Originally posted on my personal blog Tuesday, December 30, 2008 (after nine months of widowhood). It’s here again. The brief agonizingly sharp pain of awakening. Like from a coma. Or a nightmare and realizing that it is reality. I walk around as an automaton. I feed the kids. I wash my face. I buy chicken feed. I seem to be moving. I seem to be…
Christmas together
Tomorrow is the day that we have all been building up to in the last few months. I am sure that, like me, you are overwhelmed, tired and emotional. Preparing for this day is, at the best of times, exhausting…..but alone, it seems insurmountable.Please remind yourself to breathe deeply. To be gentle with yourself and to allow peace into your…
two hands where four are needed
I recently found a “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff Workbook”. It is full of quizzes and exercises to force you to look inward at yourself. This introspection makes me realize that I am pretty ‘normal’ if not, less ‘sweaty’ than the average person. I’ve been really enjoying ‘getting to know myself’ in the 5 minutes I take now and then to complete a…
what it is
Talking about being a widow is not something I always do….or want to do. Sometimes I need to talk about it. Express why I am attending a social engagement alone. Assure others that I’m not a ‘cast off’ – that my husband left me because he was physically unable to stay….not because he found me in bed with my tennis instructor.Now and then, I…
the wishlist
My children are aware that Christmas is in 23 days. Already they are making their preparations for the big day. Snow flakes already adore most of the windows in our house, our advent calendar is hanging above the fireplace and letters to Santa are ready to post. After ruminating long and hard over what she would write, my eight year old daughter,…
not all bad
When we think of being widowed, we most often think of the sadness, the loss and the loneliness created in the wake of our loss. We reflect on what once was. We imagine and recreate what could have been ‘if only’. We long to be transported back in time to when life seemed sweeter and kinder. Rarely do we think of the blessings we have gained. The…
crushing
I have a crush. A sweet, secret, hang-out-with-our-kids-at-the-park, crush.When I see him, my heart does its best impersonation of a two year old having a spastic temper tantrum. I worry when I’m in his vicinity, that I act too eager. Talk too fast. Stare too intently into his kind, blue eyes. Fear that I may spontaneously transform into a giggly…