AKA "The Writing Woman"
Can I pretend, just for a few minutes
That you are outside in the yard
Wearing your red flannel hoodie?
Can I imagine, just for a while
On this beautiful November Saturday –
That you’re raking the fallen leaves, as you loved to do?
Wearing your tiny white iPhone earbuds,
You’re listening to the new Grisham book
Oh, how you … Read the blog
After more than a year of coming to terms with Rick’s death, today I came to realize that grieving is just a long-running battle with the words I tell myself in my head. There’s a voice in a continuously running monologue that tells me things that I need to either heed or ignore, words to believe or recognize as a … Read the blog
I was fine.
I made it through going to our diner for breakfast. I purposely flipped past the song that would make me cry on the way home on this dreary day.
I pulled into our driveway and for one quick second, looked at the beautiful red-orange leaves on the tree outside our bedroom and remembered that we bought this … Read the blog
… So here I am, with all the usual stress inducers (and more) and no Rick to balance it all out for me. No backrubs. No one to say, “Don’t worry, honey, none of that matters. Let’s take a drive through the park.” I am graced with the support of wonderful friends and family, so I’m not alone. But the … Read the blog
I hate that I’m getting used to it.
I hate that I’m used to being single now, that I have new routines, that I’m moving on. I’ve achieved my new normal.
I hate that I’m more “myself” again. I hate that I’m coping better, that I have new goals, fresh ideas for my future.
I hate that it’s getting easier … Read the blog
I have a confession to make: I used to complain about my husband.
Yes, I have to admit that Rick, my perfect husband, the man I adored so much in life, was actually not so perfect, after all. And at times, when I was out with friends, or particularly aggravated by some of his failings or bad habits, I bitched … Read the blog
As an avid swimmer all my life, I know how dangerous and unpredictable waves can be. One minute, you’re frolicking in the surf, head above water, enjoying the vibrant, alive feeling of being submerged in the cold water, floating or swimming, and having the time of your life. The next, you’re knocked off your feet, gasping for breath as you’re … Read the blog
The full-color print version of my poetry book, “I Wanted to Grow Old With You: A Widow’s First Year of Grief in Poetry,” is now available online at Barnes and Noble.
… Read the blog
In the first few months after Rick died, I was in a state of nearly constant anxiety. The house no longer felt safe and I felt very alone. I have lived alone (as a single parent) before in my life, and I have also lived in an extremely unsafe neighborhood, yet it had never been like this. My safe and … Read the blog
. . .One evening, a couple of months after Rick died, I just couldn’t stand being alone in the house anymore, but I also knew I was not fit company for anyone. I was miserable and sad and lonely, but I was only lonely for Rick, so that also negated the idea of calling a friend or family member. I … Read the blog