AKA "The Writing Woman"
Yesterday marked 17 months since my husband died. So much has changed in my life since then. I’ve grieved, and grieved, and grieved some more. I’ve worked through the grief, written through the grief, talked to my grief counselor, cried on the shoulders of family and friends, and – to be honest – I’m really, really tired of grieving. Shouldn’t … Read the blog
I’m on the cusp of a new life, but it’s difficult to leave the old one behind. And, if I’m honest with myself, I feel guilty and sad, regretful that I have been able to survive without Rick, that I am making that new life on my own.
When Rick died, I never thought this would be possible – to … Read the blog
… But some nights, I lie down on my side, pull the covers around me, and put out the light, and I sense him there. It’s not a conscious decision; it just happens. I feel him scooch over next to me from behind and pull me to him, and snuggle up against me. I feel the cocoon of his love, … Read the blog
It’s been fifteen months since my husband died, and I have a question…
What exactly is my allotted grieving time?
Is there a prescribed time limit? Can I access a table of typical grief limits allowed per relationship type? Parent = 9.3 months? Cousin = 4 months? Aunt/uncle = 6.2 months? I can’t even begin to guess the grief time … Read the blog
Beginning next month, the old company logo at work is being replaced and removed from all our products. Rick created that logo 20 years ago.
I thought, there goes another piece of Rick, his legacy, his mark on the world. And I swallowed the temptation to cry as business continued to be discussed around me.
And the more I contemplate … Read the blog
“It takes a village to raise a child” is a well known African proverb that means child-rearing is a communal effort, that raising a child requires the experience and support of an entire community with whom the child can interact to help him or her learn and grow.
And since the death of my husband last year, I’ve discovered that … 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