AKA "The Writing Woman"
It’s been fifteen months since my husband died, and I have a question… What exactly is my allotted grieving time? Is there a prescribed time limit? Can I access a table of typical grief limits allowed per relationship type? Parent = 9.3 months? Cousin = 4 months? Aunt/uncle = 6.2 months? I can’t even begin…
Sometimes, I can still hear your voice in my head telling me, “I love you honey.” I can still hear you saying, “It will be OK.” And every now and then one of your catchphrases pops into my head: “That’s why they call me ‘the big fella,’” or even, “Shut the hell up.” When something…
I was missing Rick on our second Thanksgiving apart, and my second birthday without him, but I realized that he will never truly be gone. Thanksgiving Day, 2018 Another holiday is done The kids came by and we had fun I’m thankful for my family And how my life’s turned out to be But now…
…After 15 months of widowhood, I’ve pretty much adapted to my current status. And, sometimes, when I take inventory of where my life is headed, now that I’m on my own, I ask myself, Other than the fact that your husband is dead, how do you like your life? And the answer is – I have…
Can I pretend, just for a few minutes That you are outside in the yard Wearing your red flannel hoodie? Can I imagine, just for a while On this beautiful November Saturday – That you’re raking the fallen leaves, as you loved to do? Wearing your tiny white iPhone earbuds, You’re listening to the new…
After more than a year of coming to terms with Rick’s death, today I came to realize that grieving is just a long-running battle with the words I tell myself in my head. There’s a voice in a continuously running monologue that tells me things that I need to either heed or ignore, words to…
I was fine. I made it through going to our diner for breakfast. I purposely flipped past the song that would make me cry on the way home on this dreary day. I pulled into our driveway and for one quick second, looked at the beautiful red-orange leaves on the tree outside our bedroom and…
… So here I am, with all the usual stress inducers (and more) and no Rick to balance it all out for me. No backrubs. No one to say, “Don’t worry, honey, none of that matters. Let’s take a drive through the park.” I am graced with the support of wonderful friends and family, so…
I hate that I’m getting used to it. I hate that I’m used to being single now, that I have new routines, that I’m moving on. I’ve achieved my new normal. I hate that I’m more “myself” again. I hate that I’m coping better, that I have new goals, fresh ideas for my future. I…
I have a confession to make: I used to complain about my husband. Yes, I have to admit that Rick, my perfect husband, the man I adored so much in life, was actually not so perfect, after all. And at times, when I was out with friends, or particularly aggravated by some of his failings…