It’s a musical Tuesday. This is one that keeps getting stuck in my head, and the meaning of the words isn’t lost on me. I’m sure most of us get it. The question that still remains is this: “what will I do with this knowledge?” I didn’t want to understand this. I’d have rather lived to be much older without the dark knowledge of the shortness of our…
widowed by cancer
A Broken Plate
My husband doesn’t want to go.” “Huh! I don’t think mine will either!” a woman giggles. I smile, listening. wanting to smack them across their whiny, made-up faces which happen to be attached to well-dressed bodies,wanting to complain about MY husband, wanting to scream at the top of my lungs… “I want to belong to this group…
Spring Break!
I should be sitting in one of these chairs this week, it’s spring break. I’m not, but my little guy will be heading to the beach with my parents tomorrow and he’s looking forward to the trip. I am guiltily looking forward to three days on my own. As an only parent I get very few opportunities to do “me things” without having to ask someone’s help…
Skipping Out
You have cataracts.” my eye doctor declares. “I what?” You have cataracts, she says, this time a little more slowly since I obviously don’t understand her the first time. “But I’m 45 years old” I think.Out loud I say, “Aren’t I a bit young?” She says “Yes but it was probably bought on by the low dose steroids you’ve been on for years due to your…
In it for the Long Haul
For the longest time the question that haunted me was: “why him, why not me?” – for a while, the question was more often “why not take me too?”. Michele and I used to talk about the big black ship that would come pick us up and carry us away to wherever Phil and Daniel were. I told myself I’d jump on that boat and race away without a second…
Sweet?
I remember a time not too long ago when I couldn’t taste anything, couldn’t notice the sunshine, couldn’t appreciate the beauty in anything. Getting out of bed and making it through the day was all I could handle. As time passed, I noticed a beautiful day – the first gorgeous day I noticed was ruined by a crying fit (how could it be this beautiful…
Survival
So whether we wanted to or not, it appears that we have survived another date night holiday! Welcome to the other side people – only 363 more days until Valentine’s Day! 😉 This was number 5 for me as a widow. Easier by far, but still – melancholy. Valentine’s Day was my first date with my husband. He was a dashing 16 year old boy who came to my…
Every Choice
It’s a song day. I’ve loved this song for years, and it has applied to so many different times in my life when I’ve been faced with making a choice. Since becoming a widow, the idea of choice has been a constant theme in my life. At first just choosing to get out of bed was a conscious decision. As time has passed, it has become a choice to live my…
Music Was Our Refuge
The epitaph on Chris’s grave marker says, “Music Was My Refuge.” It is a most appropriate way to remember a man who was a church choir director, a pianist and an organist, a community theater actor, a Norwegian Folk dancer, and a longtime patron of the opera and symphony. In the months after Chris died, I started planning a concert in his…
Ezra’s Pain
As my world stabilizes. As I look forward, instead of back As I feel the earth rooting me, it is exactly as the grief people said it will be. “Many young children hold onto their grief until the surviving parent is able to cope. And then….”…..hell breaks loose. I see them, beyond me. They have changed from “one more thing to deal with” to “how…
Then and Now
I spent some time last week reading through my old journal. I wrote in it almost every day for a year after Daniel died. Every once in a while I read through it to remind myself of how far I’ve come. It’s been over a year since I’ve looked at it, and it was some rough reading. I felt so sorry for that poor woman (yes, me). It was painful to relive…
My Truth
(From December 09) I had a drink tonight with someone who reminded me to speak my truth. The truth is today was another day. The truth is the eight month anniversary is nothing but a date. The truth is I once stopped counting days. I will now stop counting months.The truth is he was an amazing man. The truth is he loved me more than he loved life.