AKA "The Writing Woman"
Dear Rick,
I’m at work.
It’s 9:47 am, and suddenly I pictured being at the hospital with you.
Getting on the elevator at the medical center, you turn to me and jab at my stomach and I warn you that there are cameras watching your abuse.
Then we continue with the horseplay
I swat at you
Or I throw my … Read the blog
Dear Rick,
Since you died, I’ve been amassing photos, videos, and even one voice recording I found. I’ve found things you’ve written – in longhand – and in google docs or Word.
I’ve gathered anything and everything that can keep your memory fresh.
Right now, I’m doing an Amazon Prime photo backup and seeing pictures I haven’t seen in a … Read the blog
Dear Rick,
I just made eggs for breakfast.
You used to do this for me every day before I left for work. You’d ask, “Do you want breakfast?” and I’d say, “Yes, please.” And you’d make three scrambled eggs in a small pan while I showered, and dressed, and ran to catch up because, as usual, I’d overslept.
Meanwhile, you’d … Read the blog
I hate Fridays! I can’t stop sobbing. I want to go out on the deck with my husband and celebrate the end of the work week. We should be enjoying wine and appetizers, then whatever he grilled for our dinner. I want to sit and talk about nothing and everything. Then I want to dance in the kitchen because a … Read the blog
I’ve never been less normal in my life.
Nothing is appealing – no food, no entertainment, no joy, no hope, nothing. I died when he died.
I try to comfort myself with little “nice” things. I like to sit in my recliner, under his big brown blanket (it’s really burgundy; he always called it brown). I like to cuddle up … Read the blog
I think I keep waiting for your return.
Maybe you’re at the store. Maybe you even left town for a couple of weeks, as strange as that would be.
Maybe you’re off riding your bike…riding, riding…back streets, dirt roads, through the park, enjoying yourself on this beautiful 76° day.
Maybe you’re at Costco roaming the aisles, checking out all the … Read the blog
Jo asked me if I was better off after losing you than I was before we met.
We were talking finances, and the answer is yes.
But how many other ways am I better off today?
You told me so often how intelligent I was, how beautiful, how sexy, how talented. You disparaged others who didn’t appreciate me as an … Read the blog
Two decades in the middle of my life. In time, is that what you’ll become? I man I loved for two decades of my life?
Twenty years is so awfully awfully short. Why does it hurt so much to picture you this way? To think that some day you’ll be a man I once loved?
Will I be an old … Read the blog
My life has become a movie: Groundhog Day.
Every morning I wake up and realize you’re gone all over again.
I drive in my car on the way home from work, looking forward to seeing you when I get there – oh wait, Rick is dead. I knew, but I forgot.
I walk into my house and suddenly realize the … Read the blog
Since May, Rick wasn’t himself. The radiation caused pneumonitis in the same lung as the tumors it had killed. We enjoyed our wonderful Florida vacation beginning the second week of April, but the final week, he began experiencing pain in his lung.
It became more difficult for him to walk up the slight slope of the sandy beach each evening … Read the blog