AKA "The Writing Woman"
The wind blows and your spirit speaks to me From the chimes under the gazebo out on our deck When I put your ashes inside (a little teaspoon of you) I had no idea How your memory would resonate with each sound throughout my days and my nights With a gentle nudge upon every breeze…
Since Rick died, every time I look at the ugly blue chair, it elicits a different emotion: regret at the arguments we had about it, sadness that he’s gone, and a longing to see him sitting in it again. The blue chair was a significant piece of our history – good and bad. Rick first…
Deciding what to do with one of Rick’s tech toys triggers unexpected grief. Here’s a link to my first blog post as a contributor on the Hope for Widows Foundation website: https://hopeforwidows.org/2018/04/time-grief-and-an-apple-watch/
I can’t hang onto you, I know that. But I’m trying. I’m working so hard to move on, when everything inside me screams – hang on, hang on, hang on to every scrap, every piece of him, As your life is being dismantled. I want to keep every aspect of your life untouched, in place….
Saturdays You used to say you loved to hear the rain outside our window On Saturday afternoons spent in bed A nap became a perfect world inhabited by two Legs entwined, my head on your massive muscular chest, Warmed by your love We talked of everything and nothing “Let’s pretend we’re living in our truck,…
To Rick Distance cannot stop my love From seeking your heart’s strings. Our souls communicate past death, And mine to yours still sings. The great expanse of heavens Can’t keep our love apart. For still I feel you near me; I sense you in my heart. My mind’s eye beckons you at will. I see…