AKA "The Writing Woman"
I’m sitting alone in the booth at the Coney restaurant. I thought I was used to it by now. I thought nearly nine months without you had inured me to eating alone, sleeping alone, existing alone.
But perhaps not.
I miss so much about you and our time together, but I miss chatting with you the most. I want to … Read the blog
I cried when I first changed our bed sheets
But any trace of your scent was long gone
I’ve accepted you aren’t coming back
But it’s still very hard to move on
Your things are still just where you left them
On the table right next to the bed
The last glass you drank from still sits there
And there’s … Read the blog
I see the tulips in our yard
And I remember
When I used to be excited about spring
Spring meant summer was near
And summer meant time outside with you
Days frolicking in the sun
Evenings lounging in the sultry heat out in our yard
Me swatting mosquitoes
You not
Smells and sounds of summer
The scent of chicken on … Read the blog
Why does it hit so hard sometimes? I move along, I feel myself starting to heal – just a little, and then I’m blindsided with a grief so fresh it feels like he died yesterday.
It’s 8 and ½ months today. My heart was shattered on an August Sunday nearly nine months ago. Sometimes it seems like yesterday that he … Read the blog
It’s all just attempts at distraction.
All day long every day.
Each hour brings a wrong note – discord and strife because nothing is the way it’s supposed to be.
The clock ticks and each moment reminds me of what I lost. All day, my rhythms are off. All day, every day, is wrong, soul-jarringly wrong.
Each second reminds me … Read the blog
The wind blows and your spirit speaks to me
From the chimes
under the gazebo
out on our deck
When I put your ashes inside (a little teaspoon of you)
I had no idea
How your memory
would resonate with each sound
throughout my days
and my nights
With a gentle nudge upon every breeze
Each chord brings
a soft … Read the blog
I knew each time I touched you, it could be the last
And I feared with each kiss time was moving too fast
And I held on tightly
And I longed for the cure
But you slipped away slowly
Now the past is a blur
And I longed for the cure that I knew wouldn’t come
And I longed for … Read the blog
Since Rick died, every time I look at the ugly blue chair, it elicits a different emotion: regret at the arguments we had about it, sadness that he’s gone, and a longing to see him sitting in it again. The blue chair was a significant piece of our history – good and bad.
Rick first mentioned the chair a few … Read the blog
I’m pleased to announce that I’ve been invited to be a contributing blogger on the Hope for Widows Foundation website.
I’ve found solace in writing as I work my way through the grief after Rick’s death. I hope my writing brings comfort and hope to my widowed sisters, as their support has meant a great deal to me!
… Read the blog
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 know you’d be here … Read the blog