Over the past four years I have become accustomed to filling in the blanks on various forms…marital status, spouse’s name and date of birth, person to contact in case of emergency, etcetera, etcetera. In fact, if you asked me a few days ago, I would have told you that while filling out forms still annoys me I have learned to manage my feelings…
michele neff hernandez
The Death March
I dread deathiversaries, with my whole soul, as my daughter would say. This dread is instinctual, and has nothing to do with how happy I am in my current life. The creeping feeling of impending doom sneaks up on me at the same time every year, and at odd times when I am distracted by nostalgia or lost in a happy memory. Sometimes the feeling of…
Just One
Four years after Phil’s death, I am still trying to work out how to do twice as many tasks with half the amount of hands. The anniversary of his death stirs up emotions for the kids each and every year. You would think I could anticipate their reactions to this day of remembering by now, but I can’t. My own walk down memory lane includes my…
What I Have Forgotten
My journey as a widow began four years ago today. Four years seems like both an eternity, and an instant. Standing at the foot of his emergency room bed that day, watching his pulse rate drop to zero, I saw the road ahead of me very clearly. Alone. That was the word that my brain screamed. Alone. At first I didn’t want to touch his things, for…
What I Miss
I miss familiarity. I miss being known. I miss lapsitting. I miss having a guaranteed birthday celebration. I miss the knowledge that if I break down on the road Phil is coming for me. I miss every day cell phone calls, transmitting news by just a look, and the daily irritations of sharing life with a partner.I miss Phil’s smile. I miss the fact…
Aching
This morning was the first day of school for my boys. I went to work very early; then planned to get back in time to make them breakfast and make sure they were set for the day. As I was driving home from work, I started to feel it. The dull ache. The one that began on the first day of school four years ago.That day was much like today. I went to…
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…
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…
Willing To Jump
This photo was taken at Lake Mead in Nevada about two weeks before Phil died. We were on a family vacation with some wonderful friends, and spent some time in a gorgeous cove. You are looking at Phil and my daughter, Caitlin, preparing to jump off of those rocks into the lake below. Notice that I am not up on the rocks.Phil was Mr. Adventure. He…
Journey
I know you are expecting me to talk about some kind of emotional journey right now. But this time I mean the band Journey. Eighties sensation; soundtrack to many of the moments of my youth; authors of some of the best love songs ever…THAT Journey!My son Johnny turned 17 on August 5th. Life has been so crazy lately (widow conference anyone??) that…
What Kind of Man?
What kind of man is capable of loving a widow? Would he always wonder if he measured up to the dead man whose image has a prominent place in my bedroom? How would he handle the mention of said dead husband in everyday conversation? At some point would he tire of having to be patient while a grief wave rolled, unannounced, over his girl? What would…