AKA "The Writing Woman"
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…
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…
I can’t hang onto you, I know that. But I’m trying. I’m working so hard to move on, when everything inside me screams – hang on, hang on, hang on to every scrap, every piece of him, As your life is being dismantled. I want to keep every aspect of your life untouched, in place….
On my drive from Michigan to Florida, I listened to the end of Trevor Noah’s beautiful memoir, Born a Crime: Stores From a South African Childhood. When he described the pain he felt upon hearing that his mother had been shot in the head, his words resonated with me immediately. I had to pause the book…
Who am I? It’s been nine days since I left Michigan to go on my first solo drive to Florida, and I’m now on the way back home. As the trip progressed, I started to feel more like myself, but also like a new person. There are things about traveling alone that I liked intermingled…
Dear Rick, I’m glad I made the trip. Having made the journey is like a big sigh of relief – now. It wasn’t that way at first. It was a challenge, a thing I knew I had to do to reach closure, to continue with my new life. A new life I didn’t ask for…
Yesterday was day two of my stay in Florida – my first trip driving by myself from Michigan, my first vacation without Rick. I was sitting on the beach alone, watching the sunset and missing him, trying to feel him, thinking only of him. My friend Traci called from Michigan to check on me. She…
Dear Rick, My mind continues to go back to that day last August, the day you called me in to lay with you. I was working from home, as usual, and we had eaten Burger King in the park for lunch. Now it was 4pm, and I had just finished my work day in my…
My life is consumed by grief, by your presence in my memories, by your absence in my day to day existence. Everything else is an attempt at distraction.
Dear Rick, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand that you’re not here with me. Yes, I’m proud of myself. I drove to Florida. But the pride doesn’t count for much when compared to the misery I’m feeling right now. Not seeing you in the chair next to me at sunset was devastating. You’re supposed…