AKA "The Writing Woman"
THE LOST PIECE When a soul mate dies It leaves a hole with a ragged edge An empty space, too difficult to patch Although I try to find another piece that fits, The shape is never quite right And the hole remains empty Sometimes, I set the puzzle aside And pretend my life is complete…
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…
As the sixth anniversary of Rick’s death approaches, I realize I’ve had many shifts in my attitude about how I view my life here alone. For about the first two years, my whole identity was that of a widow. I was still part of a couple, one of us just wasn’t living. I continued to…
I came across videos of a trip Rick and I took 14 years ago this month. He knew going to Cornwall to explore the land of my ancestors had been a life-long dream and we spent five glorious days in England. We then met up with my son and his wife to explore several other…
It was like coming across something significant on an archeological dig, that’s how this morning’s discovery felt. I was cleaning out the food cupboard where all the baking needs and oils and such are stored. So many packages have passed the expiration date because I rarely cook complicated meals for myself here alone. I make…
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…
The Golden Years I never thought I’d be alone In the golden years… This stage of life we longed for Retired from the nine to five drudge Free to do anything we wanted. When we looked towards the future, we saw beaches and travel More of this! We said, when we took that three-week trip…
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…
The impact of Rick’s death has lessened as the years go by. That’s only natural. I’ve always been a firm believer that time really does heal all wounds, although not as quickly as we would like (and I definitely formed that opinion before experiencing widowhood). But certainly the enormous and raw pain I felt daily…
I was watching a Brene Brown video and she talked about how everyone wants to have extraordinary experiences, but how the little things in life really matter more. She said that after stunning life events, like near-death experiences, the death of a loved one, or other traumas, in the aftershock, what we miss are the…