Category: Letters to Rick

I’m moving on.

I’ve taken pictures of your office, as you had it when you were here. It’s my attempt to maintain your memory. The office was you: your art, your collections, your special retreat filled with all your favorite things, gadgets, technology.

Your blue chair – the ugly Early American monstrosity – is still there where it was relocated after many an argument when you rescued it from your mother’s basement. NO. It CANNOT stay in our living room! I disagreed with having it in the house, let alone our modern Ikea-furnished living room. Finally, you capitulated (after how many arguments?) and removed it to your office.

Dear Rick, So, here I am, feeling really proud of myself for handling my new normal. I’m not crying all day anymore. I’m functioning. I’m planning a future without you. I’m being me, again, not always “us.” I’m planning my bucket list. I’m finding substitutes to try to fill the role you played in my…

Dear Rick, I had my performance review today. I always called you immediately after talking to Sam and told you what she said. You always told me you were proud of me, and of course, excited when there was any possibility of me getting a raise in my future and our circumstances improving as they…

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…