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 the beauty of these natural … Read the blog
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 months next week. Remember when … Read the blog
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 some type of fugue state. … Read the blog
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 same time and this is … Read the blog
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, yet not lonely
Alive and … Read the blog
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 the most. I want to … Read the blog
I cried when I first changed our bed sheets
But any trace of your scent was long gone
I’ve accepted you aren’t coming back
But it’s still very hard to move on
Your things are still just where you left them
On the table right next to the bed
The last glass you drank from still sits there
And there’s … Read the blog
I see the tulips in our yard
And I remember
When I used to be excited about spring
Spring meant summer was near
And summer meant time outside with you
Days frolicking in the sun
Evenings lounging in the sultry heat out in our yard
Me swatting mosquitoes
You not
Smells and sounds of summer
The scent of chicken on … Read the blog
Why does it hit so hard sometimes? I move along, I feel myself starting to heal – just a little, and then I’m blindsided with a grief so fresh it feels like he died yesterday.
It’s 8 and ½ months today. My heart was shattered on an August Sunday nearly nine months ago. Sometimes it seems like yesterday that he … Read the blog
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
Each chord brings
a soft … Read the blog