AKA "The Writing Woman"
This is our house. You planted these ficas in the front yard. You built these wooden pillars to cover the old colonial ones. You carried this bench to the front porch – the one that we brought from our home in Maryland. You cut this grass. You put in the new front door, and put…
You thought you couldn’t live without your Aunt Pat You thought you couldn’t live without your mom You thought you couldn’t live without your dad And now Rick It gets harder and harder as people leave you. Your special support system. Those who loved you like no other person ever did. And I type this…
Twenty years. We missed each other for a few, early on, when we lived apart. Why did we waste that time? I sit here alone in the living room, wishing you were next to me. I dread going to bed, the empty bed. What a journey we’ve had. You’ve taken me to incredible heights and…
I never finished writing this journal entry, but it was interesting coming across it several months after Rick died. I didn’t have much time to write, but I’m glad I had this one short entry because it reminds me of how early on the reality of his impending death really started to sink in. January…