AKA "The Writing Woman"
In memorium. I keep making decisions in memory of Rick. He would have liked this or that. He and I picked out this furniture so I will buy it in his memory. I just thought about the gazebo outside. There was freezing rain this morning and it’s snowing now. I’ll need to go out and…
The new year always signifies a fresh start. What wonderful things will I experience this year? What new things will I attempt? What new hopes and dreams can come to fruition? Will it be a good year? No, not this year. This year signifies a new start, but not the kind I ever dreamed of…
At my grief counseling appointment last week, I expressed to my therapist, Vaiva, that — as I start to feel more “myself,” stop thinking about Rick continuously as I had for the first few months — I’m more afraid of the pain that I know will come when I do think of him again. She…
It’s going on five months now I thought the “what if‘s” were over I thought I had locked them away in a box after examining every single one carefully minutely looking them over and over and castigating myself for what I could have done. But apparently it’s not over Apparently someone unlocked the box Perhaps…
I wake up every morning with some depressing thought. Sometimes it’s picturing you the day you died. Sometimes it’s remembering how your mind was starting to go in those last months. Of course, I never know what it will be. I only know it will cause pain, and then I’ll put it away and go…
In 2012, after my father died, I submitted his story to the NYT’s The Lives They Loved section. For some reason, it made me feel better – my father was a simple man, no movie star or world leader, yet he was bigger than life in my world. Publishing his story in the Times seemed…
They talk of Christmas, but to me it’s just another day without you. It’s just another day that you’re gone.
This morning I woke up, and foolishly went to the widows’ support group on FB. A woman mentioned the theory that our loved ones wait until we leave to die. They hold on until that time, then you may go to get a drink of water, take a bathroom break, and that’s the time that…
December 20, 2017 18 weeks Dear Rick, I went to Costco today. I doubt I’ve ever gone without you. Maybe once, but maybe not. Costco was us, just as Home Depot, Lowe’s, Ikea, and all those other stores were places we went together. Roaming the aisles of Costco with you was one of life’s simple…
December 11, 2017 The printer just made the cycling noise that lets me know you are here. So I started blabbing to you. I think you may be around at other times, but when I hear this, I jump at the chance that you’re trying to tell me you’re here. I love you. You know…