AKA "The Writing Woman"
To Rick: I Wanted to Grow Old With You I wanted to grow old with you, but fate had other plans. I vowed to love you until death as we stood holding hands. We pledged to be together until our lives were through. I thought we’d spend the golden years ahead, just me and you….
I can’t hang onto you, I know that. But I’m trying. I’m working so hard to move on, when everything inside me screams – hang on, hang on, hang on to every scrap, every piece of him, As your life is being dismantled. I want to keep every aspect of your life untouched, in place….
Saturdays You used to say you loved to hear the rain outside our window On Saturday afternoons spent in bed A nap became a perfect world inhabited by two Legs entwined, my head on your massive muscular chest, Warmed by your love We talked of everything and nothing “Let’s pretend we’re living in our truck,…
If I could have you back for one day… I’d hold you and never let go. I’d bask in your love I’d dance in your arms And tell you that I love you so. I’ll ask you to tell me stories Just to hear your deep voice again It’s been so awfully quiet Without you…
On my drive from Michigan to Florida, I listened to the end of Trevor Noah’s beautiful memoir, Born a Crime: Stores From a South African Childhood. When he described the pain he felt upon hearing that his mother had been shot in the head, his words resonated with me immediately. I had to pause the book…
Who am I? It’s been nine days since I left Michigan to go on my first solo drive to Florida, and I’m now on the way back home. As the trip progressed, I started to feel more like myself, but also like a new person. There are things about traveling alone that I liked intermingled…
Dear Rick, I’m glad I made the trip. Having made the journey is like a big sigh of relief – now. It wasn’t that way at first. It was a challenge, a thing I knew I had to do to reach closure, to continue with my new life. A new life I didn’t ask for…
Yesterday was day two of my stay in Florida – my first trip driving by myself from Michigan, my first vacation without Rick. I was sitting on the beach alone, watching the sunset and missing him, trying to feel him, thinking only of him. My friend Traci called from Michigan to check on me. She…
Dear Rick, My mind continues to go back to that day last August, the day you called me in to lay with you. I was working from home, as usual, and we had eaten Burger King in the park for lunch. Now it was 4pm, and I had just finished my work day in my…
My life is consumed by grief, by your presence in my memories, by your absence in my day to day existence. Everything else is an attempt at distraction.