Summer is winding down and I have no idea where the time went. And when I say I have no idea, I mean it both figuratively and literally. Figuratively, because the time has flown by as it always does, and literally because I cannot remember what I did for the last two months. Honestly. I feel like my brain doesn’t work anymore at all. Is…
wendy saint-onge
A Waste of Worry
Last week I was anxious and annoyed (raging, actually) over the seemingly endless list of things I thought I could not do without Ben. At the time, the top of my list of stressors was the fact that I was headed off to Camp Widow where I would be attending a Saturday night Masquerade Ball, and I realized there was no one to zip up my dress. It…
No One To Zip Me Up
I have recently discovered the latest in a list of annoyances caused by being a … (I still choke on the word “widow”) … alone. As I write this post I am preparing to board a plane tomorrow for San Diego … Widows Camp. There. I said it. I don’t fly back in until Sunday night so I have to write the post early. I’m sure that many of…
Trip Down Memory Lane
This week my daughter and I caught the ferry over to The Sunshine Coast in southern BC and toured Gibsons and Sechelt. Gibsons was home to the filming of the television show “The Beachcombers” from 1972 to 1990. It was also the first hometown to Wendy and Ben from 1993 to 1997. It’s where we lived when we got married, it’s where we…
Maybe I’ll Get A Cat
I’m finding it a bit lonely, this whole “being alone” thing. Back in my real life I often craved alone time. Just one hour of peace and quiet was like winning the lottery, because the last time I had such a thing was somewhere around 1992. The last couple of decades have been filled with career and intermingled with babies, followed by…
Being Mom And Dad
I do not know how to be a Dad. I believe that most who know me would refer to me as “capable.” Since Ben died, I think I have adequately learned how to manage things I have never before needed to know how to do. I have learned how to bank online, get my vehicle repaired, hang a picture using a level and hammer instead of the heel of my…
How Are You?
I have struggled with this question since the moment Ben received his diagnosis. Those are usually the first words out of someone’s mouth when they see me, and then a look immediately crosses their face and I suspect they are thinking one of two things: “God. That was a stupid question to ask. Why did I ask her that? How the Hell do I…