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 Go On” from The Titanic.… Read the blog
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 finds just about anything funny.… Read the blog
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 it was our new home. … Read the blog
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 cared for me?
Can I … Read the blog
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 myself.
I’m stunned by the … Read the blog
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 feeling like my life was … Read the blog
The first year or two after losing Rick, every memory that popped into my mind was an emotional trigger that sometimes made me sob, and other times just brought on some quiet tears. The trick was learning to handle these moments because you never knew where or when they were going to hit. It wasn’t just seeing a picture of … Read the blog
This past week, I was up at our cottage in northern Michigan, and I joined the family at nearby Ocqueoc Falls. Rick used to make fun of the falls. When I first took him there, he kept laughing as he watched the water cascading across the large stones, and finally he asked, “Well, where are the falls?” Two weeks later, … Read the blog
…It’s an elusive feeling this time. The grief. The heartbreak. This makes it all final. Rick is gone and he’s never coming back. Another man is holding my hand, telling me he’s crazy about me, kissing me, “smitten” with me. And it’s one of the most bittersweet things I’ve encountered on this long, complicated grief journey.
I guess it’s time … Read the blog
Oh Facebook, you’re killing me. Here I sit again with tears streaming down my face. Note to self: do not check the Facebook memories until you’re really prepared for it.
The memories that seem to get me are the ones from four years ago, the last good year with Rick. From January to August 2016, life was normal. But then … Read the blog