I am strong. I am incredibly strong. I never knew how strong Before. I wonder how I survived those first few minutes of knowing, those first few hours of screaming, that first night, week, month, year. But I did. …and so I know I am made of strong stuff. I know it’s true because I am still here, raising two children, finding joy where I can get…
widowhood and moving forward
Chapter Two
I now divide my life into two chapters. Chapter one began when I met Dave. My life path suddenly became clear with him. I felt really safe and loved for the first time. My grades in college improved, the lifelong battle I’d had with insomnia disappeared. I moved across the country to be with this man who turned my world around. We spent…
Good Bye
Good bye. Words we are familiar with. We have, in one way or another, said goodbye to spouses/partners. In tears, begging for forgiveness, in resolution. We have thought, uttered, whispered those words. Good bye. Good bye for me, now holds so much more. I get that I may not see a person again. I get that there isn’t a reason for death. It sweeps…
Deny
When loss strikes, we have a way of denying ourselves of things. Whether it be the ability to smile since they can’t smile. The ability to see all the impact that they’re life left by focusing on the fact that they were taken so suddenly. The ability to celebrate life’s happenings, since they are not there to celebrate it with you. Our ability to…
a better widow than me
Last night, I finally threw Jeff’s toothbrush in the trash. 3 years, 7 months and 22 days, since he used it to scrub his teeth clean. This action was precipitated a few days ago when I had spoken to a dear friend who is known for being outspoken and blunt. She doesn’t mean harm at all but is very Northern European in the delivery of her very strong…
The Fraudulent Widow
I have a confession to make. And to many of you it will sound preposterous. No doubt many of you will think that I am out of touch, delusional or didn’t have a “good” marriage. Some of you won’t believe me or won’t want to believe me. I am not of the widow crowd that believes that my husband, Art, was “my one and only love in my…
The Why’s
***This is a post I wrote 3 years ago today. Almost a bookmark to my progress.*** Why: adv. For what purpose, reason, or cause; with what intention, justification, or motive Now we know there are definitions, but in this case it is three letters that come together to become a word that has a way of haunting those of us who have felt cheated of a…
In my closet
I wore Jeff’s work coat the other night – Halloween night. It was the first time I have worn it in the three years since he died. I haven’t wanted it to lose any of his smell, cells or presence by donning it myself. But with it on, I felt warm, cuddled and protected from the cold Autumn wind biting at me as I followed the kids down a variety of…
old shoes and wooden spatulas
I’ve been sorting through our cupboards and closets and purging the least needed/most outgrown items lately in anticipation of living mostly indoors again after a summer in the backyard and beach. I have found mismatched gumboots, lost flashlights, a dried up snail and the odd coin. Most surprisingly, I have unearthed copious amounts of Jeff’s…
He’s Not Here
Last weekend we moved. Our new place is smaller, more intimate. I like it. It’s simpler to manage. (There are only so many places Ezra’s left shoe can be!) It makes sorting through the boxes and boxes of stuff I should have sold, much simpler. (If it stays, exactly where is it going to go, Kim?) And I feel lighter here, less…
Burn
I know the phrase is a little off-putting but I think I’d be in naive in not noting those that have come in and out of my life since Michael’s death….though burning of bridges is probably an exaggeration of a statement. In the beginning of Michael’s death, many left or were hurt by the lack of understanding of the pain and loss I was feeling. As…
I’m Okay
Six years ago my husband died in a tragic accident (is there any other kind really?). I woke up the next morning, and felt certain that I had been dreaming. With my eyes closed, I slid my hand across the bed to Phil’s side, and felt the cold sheets where his warm body used to lie. I wasn’t dreaming. The pain of his absence was searing. There were…