AKA "The Writing Woman"
I’ve had years to study the effects of grief and just about everything written about it. And one of the things that surprised me when I first became a widow was how much fear was a part of grief. After Rick died, my biggest fear was that I wouldn’t have the strength to go on…
It’s finished! My latest book, A Widows Words, The Later Years is available in paperback, hardcover, and ebook on Amazon. https://a.co/d/6MSzICQ It’ll also be on Barnes and Noble and the ebook will be for sale on Kobo, soon.
It’s that time, again. The ten-day period between the anniversary of Rick’s death and his birthday, the day we held his celebration of life. August 13th to August 23rd, 2017: the most painful time of my life. After seven years, it doesn’t hit as hard. Well, at least that’s what I thought. But I realized…
Every now and then I hear one of those old songs from the 1940s that my parents used to listen to, and – wow – do those lyrics hit! The other night, as I lay awake in bed (as usual), I remembered the lyrics of “There Will Never Be Another You”: There will be many…
I’m babysitting my two young grandsons for a four-day weekend while their folks are out of town. These two like all sorts of music. They may ask the Amazon Alexa to play Daft Punk, Justin Bieber, rap or hard rock, or at bedtime, just before I play Enya, they want to hear “My Heart Will…
t happened again. I went on another first date that didn’t leave me wanting a second. The man was intelligent and ambitious, polite and friendly. But there was no spark, and, when I got home afterwards, I realized that I hadn’t laughed once. Not once. And I have that kind of sense of humor that…
In October 2006, we found this house. It was a beautiful, quiet setting on a dead-end street. We had been considering a different house, but we came to look at this house one more time. When we saw it with the leaves turning color and the autumn light and smells all around us, we knew…
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…
Five years ago today, I held Rick’s hand in a death grip. A literal death grip, for hour upon hour. By noon of that day, I realized he was going to die, and he did, at 8pm that night. The night before, alone in my bed, I had an odd feeling. A scary feeling. A…