AKA "The Writing Woman"
When I was a never-married single mother in my late thirties, I went back to school, hoping to start a career so I could better support my son. Since I loved literature, I took every English Literature class available. I was a hopeless romantic. Things hadn’t worked out with my son’s father, we never married,…
I’ve been excited about my latest adventure. The local library invited me to have a table with my books at their annual local author fair. I’ve never done it before – never even considered it, mostly because I never considered myself an author. I know I’m a writer. I know I’ve published books, but I…
The fuchsia-pink pool noodle Rick bought me is starting to decompose around the edges. The memories of that last vacation we shared are starting to fade around the edges, too. How can a pool noodle come to mean so much to me? How does it symbolize our love? Or his personality? Or how much he…
The bright, hot sun is beating on my back. The waves of Lake Huron are washing rhythmically against the shore. The sky is blue and nearly cloudless. I put aside my literary magazine to drink it all in: the sun, the breeze, the sand, the summer. “This is the life, Rick Roy,” I say to…
The impact of Rick’s death has lessened as the years go by. That’s only natural. I’ve always been a firm believer that time really does heal all wounds, although not as quickly as we would like (and I definitely formed that opinion before experiencing widowhood). But certainly the enormous and raw pain I felt daily…
Last week was the anniversary of our first date. I remembered writing about that date a year after his death, so I looked up the blog. There it was, and as I read it, I remembered that stage of grief again, the rawness of another “first” without him. But something else happened while I read…
Grief knows no bounds. It can be triggered when you least expect it, although most triggers are obvious and predictable. After Rick’s death, I knew going into a diner, Home Depot, or Costo would be painful. I knew vacationing without him for the first time would be awful. Smelling his aftershave or seeing a large…
The first year or two after losing Rick, every memory that popped into my mind was an emotional trigger that sometimes made me sob, and other times just brought on some quiet tears. The trick was learning to handle these moments because you never knew where or when they were going to hit. It wasn’t…
I went on a date last Saturday night…it was my first date with a new man I met in an online dating app. After two years of first dates, the only thing I know for sure is that you never know what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised to find he was a nice…
FLOWERS FOR NO REASON My life went on without you I’ve lived through every season But since you died, the thing I miss Is flowers for no reason These Hallmark Holidays, you claimed, Were not what proved devotion It was the times lived in between… Vacations near the ocean Or evenings on our backyard deck…