It is a glorious spring day on the northern coast of England, and I am seated on a bench overlooking the sea, in a village called Robin Hood’s Bay. It is an ancient settlement, with remains found that date back 3000 years, and first mentioned by a topographer of Henry the VIII in 1536.Yesterday I walked to this village from Whitby, where I am…
widow
Into the Unknown
Along with being a writer, many of you know that I’m an artist. You may also know, as I’ve sometimes shared here, that I’ve been working on a photographic series for the past year all about my journey through grief. What began as just a small idea, to take a self portrait every week and share it on my blog, has snowballed into something of a…
617 Days and Counting
I reached another widow milestone this week: on Thursday Dan had been dead for 617 days. The same number of days that I was blessed to have him in my life. One year, eight months, two weeks and four days. That’s all the time we had together. I’d been dreading this moment for months. For some reason, I even have a countdown app on my phone, so…
Highs and Lows
Writing this up a bit late today. It’s 10 a.m. on Friday morning, east coast time, and this blog is supposed to be submitted by midnight California / Pacific time – so, 3 a.m. last night. But sometimes by the time Thursday evening rolls around, I am so damn exhausted both emotionally and physically from going to work, going to the gym (something…
A Little Moment of Now
Mike always did enjoy the little things, when we were together. I think – no, I know – in days past he looked for the bigger thrills, but by the time he got to me, he had gotten to a point of really appreciating the simple pleasures of life. I am glad of that, and these days it continues to resonate for me. One of them, of course, was a meal out…
Keeping it Simple
My goal is to live as simply as possible. To own things that do not own me. To give things to our kids now so that they don’t need to wonder about what to do with these things of mine when I’m dead. Much of this is an easy process for me, since Chuck and I sold most of our belongings when we hit the road in 2009. Since his death, I’ve…
Ashes to Ashes
Saturday, I carried the remnants of my husband’s body from our bedroom to the summit of Monks Road, in Glossop, the spot he had chosen as his final resting place. It was one of the hardest things I have had to do, in this 10 month journey since his death. His family and I scheduled this date months ago. Even then, I was reluctant to consider…
Birthdays and Beginnings
Today was my fiance’s birthday. The third year without him here. You always think it’s going to get easier. And you never really have any clue how it’s going to hit you. That’s no mystery to me. I’ve been dealing with the milestone of my mom’s birthday for over 20 years now since she died… and some years are just harder than others, for no real…
A Time for Compassion
Like the rest of the world, I awoke to the news this week that the tragic crash of the Germanwings flight 9252 was due to a deliberate act of the co-pilot, and my heart sunk. My immediate thoughts were for the families of everyone on board – there would be so many questions, so much pain. All these beautiful, innocent lives lost in a…
Spouse: Blank
Who would ever think that something as boring and mundane as reading your tax return would send you into fits of sobbing, post-loss? A tax return? Really? It’s not like I was even the one doing my taxes. Luckily, “I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy” (as Sal would say on “Breaking Bad”), who does my tax return for me. Actually, I am making…
Desperation
A few weeks ago, I became fully, wide-awake aware, that this grief was killing me. Not enough so that I’d actually physically die, but enough so that I continually felt as if a meat slicer was in my chest, merrily chopping away at my innards. At the same time it was as if an anvil such as blacksmiths might use, was slung around my neck,…
A Rose by any Other Name…
Ok, “rose” isn’t exactly the first term that comes to mind when thinking of widow, but I’ll go with the literary, Shakespearian reference for this post. I could be posting on getting through the third anniversary of Ian getting sick, which coincided with his birthday on St Patrick’s Day. But much to my surprise, that anniversary passed without…