AKA "The Writing Woman"
As a writer, I spend a lot of time alone, and a lot of time thinking – mostly contemplating life. Tonight, the holiday dinner is over, the kids and grandkids are all off on their merry way, and I sit here pondering how it feels to be alone again in my quiet home. It feels natural now.
I was nearing … Read the blog
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 that all last week I … Read the blog
As I sit here, reflecting on the year that has passed, I realized how alone I feel. Sure, I have lots of loved ones in my life – and many, many people I can count on to be there for me, so I’m not lonely at all. But I’ve never felt this alone. I think it’s all the holiday cheer … Read the blog
For a couple years after my husband died, grief completely overtook my life. I was in a pain-filled fog. I thought about him around the clock. There were memories of his loss everywhere – in my home, my life, my routines, my habits, my comings and goings. Every store we shopped in, every street we drove down together, every restaurant … 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
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
Grief knows no bounds. It can be triggered when you least expect it, although most triggers are obvious and predictable. After Rick’s death, I knew going into a diner, Home Depot, or Costo would be painful. I knew vacationing without him for the first time would be awful. Smelling his aftershave or seeing a large bald man would sometimes be … 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
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So as I watched the beautiful memorial for the 400,000 victims, I wept, but in the midst of it all, there was some healing. The beautiful ceremony and the shared grief made me feel much less alone, and grateful that all those people who died alone were being memorialized and honored.
And then the words in President-Elect Biden’s short … Read the blog