AKA "The Writing Woman"
As widowed life becomes “normal,” not every morning is horrible anymore. It used to be – a few short months ago – that the bravest thing I’ve ever done was to get out of bed in the morning and face the day ahead.
In the first month or two after Rick died, I was in some type of fugue state. … Read the blog
I was tidying up the kitchen yesterday, and I reached for the spray bottle of cleaner. I noticed it’s almost empty and reminded myself that I need to add it to my shopping list. Then my mind started its typical chain of thoughts… Rick bought this bottle. He bought a couple of bottles at the same time and this is … Read the blog
One of the most difficult and unexpected things I’ve had to cope with in this grieving process is getting used to the quiet, the deafening quiet.
I miss the groans he emitted as he arose from his chair or sat down again – or as he loudly clomped up the basement stairs after getting a can of something from the … Read the blog
I was running late this morning (nothing new about that). But today I was particularly late, and at the time I got in my car and started it up, I’m usually already sitting at my desk at work. I wouldn’t normally have been in the car when this song was playing.
Timing is everything.
So I started my car, and … Read the blog
I feel like I’m at some weird crossroads in my life: the intersection of clinging to my life with Rick and forging on to my solo life ahead. My head is filled with conflicting thoughts. The pain, the grief has lessened (most days), and I’ve realized that by living without Rick for nearly ten months, I now feel more like … Read the blog
As someone who has now survived nine months of widowhood, I decided to extend a lifeline of hope for anyone who’s in the first few month of grieving. It’s a surprising realization and something that occurred to me only this morning:
It gets better.
I never would have believed it in the early days – the days, weeks, and months … Read the blog
Serenity was a long holiday weekend.
Me floating in my pool
You, off riding your bicycle
Quiet, stillness, lassitude
Relaxed in the giant float I bought on Amazon
Peace and tranquility
Summer and heat and happiness
Floating, floating, floating
Staring up at the blue sky
Leaves and squirrels rustling in the trees
Pure bliss
Alone, yet not lonely
Alive and … Read the blog
I’m sitting alone in the booth at the Coney restaurant. I thought I was used to it by now. I thought nearly nine months without you had inured me to eating alone, sleeping alone, existing alone.
But perhaps not.
I miss so much about you and our time together, but I miss chatting with you the most. I want to … Read the blog
I cried when I first changed our bed sheets
But any trace of your scent was long gone
I’ve accepted you aren’t coming back
But it’s still very hard to move on
Your things are still just where you left them
On the table right next to the bed
The last glass you drank from still sits there
And there’s … Read the blog
I see the tulips in our yard
And I remember
When I used to be excited about spring
Spring meant summer was near
And summer meant time outside with you
Days frolicking in the sun
Evenings lounging in the sultry heat out in our yard
Me swatting mosquitoes
You not
Smells and sounds of summer
The scent of chicken on … Read the blog