AKA "The Writing Woman"
It’s tough to go on vacations now…too much time to think. I’m up north at the family cottage for two weeks, and the weather is beautiful. I have nothing to do but bask in the sun, play with the grandkids on the sandy beach of Lake Huron, enjoy time with my family, and take in…
Dear Rick, It’s been nearly a year since you died. Does that mean I should be getting over the grief by now? Should I be capable of moving on in my “new” life without you? In antiquated terms, is it almost time for me to remove my widow’s weeds? Almost a year…it will be eleven…
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…
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…
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…
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 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,…
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 –…
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,…
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…