What’s new? How have you been coping? How are you?
I’m fine. [I wail. I scream. I’m lonely. I miss my husband. My heart has been ripped out of my chest. I can’t sleep at night. My soulmate is gone.]
… Read the blogCategory: Prose
The Weekend
Dear Rick,
I thought I was getting better, but I didn’t make it through the weekend. Somehow I went from Friday feeling positive, feeling like I could go on without you, to Sunday evening, sitting in front of your computer, watching videos of us dancing at our wedding while I dissolved into a puddle of tears.
I guess I should’ve … Read the blog
If I don’t grieve you as hard, does that negate our love?
Dear Rick,
It’s Friday. I’m working at home.
It just occurred to me that the pain isn’t as great anymore. That continuous ache in my heart hasn’t plagued me this morning.
Maybe I don’t want it to go away. The ache of missing you is somehow what I owe you. I loved you (LOVE you) so much, that it’s what … Read the blog
You and I were a team
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 have been in the past … Read the blog
I don’t know where he is
I don’t know where he is.
All religions have their explicit, concise answers for where the spirit goes after leaving the body. Heaven, limbo, another realm.
But no one really knows.
Those who write those “life after death” stories, describe the light, walking down a path, a glorious, peaceful feeling. They see long-dead relatives, they are filled with grief when … Read the blog
I woke up feeling good today
Tomorrow is the five-month anniversary of your death.
Five months.
I couldn’t have imagined living five months without your touch, without seeing your smiling face, hearing your throaty laugh.
Five months without your witty repartee – and lame jokes.
Five months without your love.
However, for some unfathomable reason, I feel good, like I may have a future.
This is … Read the blog
In memorium.
In memorium.
I keep making decisions in memory of Rick. He would have liked this or that. He and I picked out this furniture so I will buy it in his memory.
I just thought about the gazebo outside. There was freezing rain this morning and it’s snowing now. I’ll need to go out and clean off the canvas so … Read the blog
The new year
The new year always signifies a fresh start. What wonderful things will I experience this year? What new things will I attempt? What new hopes and dreams can come to fruition? Will it be a good year?
No, not this year.
This year signifies a new start, but not the kind I ever dreamed of nor wanted. This year is … Read the blog
Picking at the scab
At my grief counseling appointment last week, I expressed to my therapist, Vaiva, that — as I start to feel more “myself,” stop thinking about Rick continuously as I had for the first few months — I’m more afraid of the pain that I know will come when I do think of him again. She said, it’s analogous to picking … Read the blog
Would you still be here?
I wake up every morning with some depressing thought.
Sometimes it’s picturing you the day you died. Sometimes it’s remembering how your mind was starting to go in those last months.
Of course, I never know what it will be. I only know it will cause pain, and then I’ll put it away and go on with my day. Some … Read the blog