I stayed up. I was drained. I was exhausted. But I stayed up. It became my mission of madness. To anyone else, it was just a simple "Happy Birthday" but to Linzi...it signified another year of survival. I wanted to be the first to say it on a night she was perhaps at her lowest, and not just lowest that week...but probably her whole life. 


Earlier that week I had her make me one final promise. I clutched her hand tightly in that dreary hospital room, my eyes searching those pools of green, a storm still raging in them.


"You're not allowed to leave me until you turn 27. You hear me?"

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Moment of Silence for Football Widows ....

Every single year, at this time of the year and until the conclusion of football season in February with the Superbowl, millions of women, and in few cases, men, all over America, suffer alone. Their suffering is so great, that they take their plight to the masses; posting all over social media about how they will once again be a football widow while their husband or partner goes away for short periods of time, to watch and enjoy football. 

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My Bubble

I’m back in Kona after a whirlwind trip across two very large ponds. Being that it is 11 hours time difference between Hawaii and the UK, I am still suffering the lag, but it’s getting better. It was well worth it, both for time with my boyfriend’s family, and refreshing the spirit during a time of looming change in my reality. So now back to the grind.


And back to a cold, hard reality as well. Hearing about the shooting in Las Vegas chilled me to the bone. In years past, when Mike was alive, we used to come together during moments like that, during the other horror shows we as humans have lived through during the years of our marriage, from 9/11 to Sandy Hook. We would talk about what we really thought happened…we would try and translate the news into some language we could comprehend. Really for me, having his wisdom, his soothing presence, his protection perhaps, made me so much less fearful, both for myself, and the world.


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And So it Must Always Be~

In the before moments

As you hold tight while trying to let go

Waiting for that last breath

Dreading that last breath

Holding your breath waiting for that last breath

Gasping in your breath as he exhales his last breath

Long Live Love

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When You Least Expect It

So much of our lives are built upon expectations.  We plan our higher education based on the expectation that we can have a career doing what we love.  We raise children on the expectation that they will succeed even beyond what we ourselves as parents have achieved.  We marry, with the expectation that our partner will be there by our side until one or the other has met their end.  

On the simpler side of things, we expect to be scared, emotional, or laugh when we go to a movie.  We expect hunger to be sated by dinner, and we expect to have thrills and fun at an amusement park.

We expect to be entertained at a concert, enjoying an artist or band plying their trade in front of us.  Then...the unexpected happens.


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Live Life

Live life.

Good advice, right?  I have always liked to pass that piece of advice onto my kids whenever I had the opportunity.  “Take time off before University.  Go see the world.  Live your life while you can.”  That’s what we used to say to them. We had all sorts of tidbits of advice which included, "Happiness is a choice, so choose it."  "Be a good person." "Work hard." "Be kind" and "Live Your Life".  We only get one of them.

But then Ben died, and everything changed.  I became torn between wanting my kids to live their lives and wanting them home with me every second.  I became obsessed with controlling everything they did, even when I knew I was being ridiculous.  Even when a little voice inside my head told me to lay off or they would say "Sayonara Mama" and move right out of this house so that they no longer had me breathing down their necks.  Even when I caused my son immense frustration.  Even when I made my daughter cry. 

It seems that after Ben died I no longer wanted them to live the life they wanted … I wanted them to live the life that I wanted.  And I wanted them home, safe, and with me every minute.

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I Get It Now, and I'm Sorry

Lately, I have been finding myself in situations that I have been in before, except this time, Im in the situation as the other person, and the other person is my forever dead husband. The other night, I found myself sitting in his recliner chair, and talking to him in a whisper, which I do from time to time, and I was saying: "I get it now. And I'm sorry." What am I sorry about? Read on .... 

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Junk Mail - Repost

While I am away I am reposting a blog from 2014. This still happens too.

Today I grabbed the mail from the mailbox, saw it was mostly junk, and tossed it on the floor of my car as I sped off downtown for a few errands. Stopped at a stoplight I looked down and noticed a flyer from our local vision center which said brightly, we miss seeing you! Specials now…etc, etc.

I thought for a moment…huh. They miss me? I just got new glasses a couple of months ago. Then with a pang I realized they meant Mike. I reached down to pick it up, my suspicions confirmed. Another piece of mail for him. Another business still unaware. Yeah. I miss seeing him too.

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Yeah, I'm Good With it~

But don’t you want to be happy? Don’t you owe it to your kids to remember you as happy?  Life is supposed to be happy. Maybe you’re depressed. Don’t you want to be happy?

You’ve heard the same questions and comments. I know you have. Because you’re a widow/er just like me and you are surrounded by similar people. Or, if you’re public about your grief, as I am, you hear it from the general public. Less frequently, maybe, as the years pass. But you hear it.  Such comments were more prominent somewhere in my 3rd year.  Apparently, if one is still grieving in the 3rd year, bells of doubt start ringing in the minds of those around you, whispering words like depression complicated grief not moving on not getting on with it medications therapy etc…

I’m embarrassed to admit that, upon hearing these comments (and let’s be honest, it’s thinly veiled criticism because it comes across exactly as it sounds: a judgement, as if I’m doing something wrong), I initially and inevitably ended up defending myself, and trying to explain myself, even as I knew I had no reason to defend myself.  But those words made me feel defensive and attacked. So, I defended.

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Onward and Upward


“The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step” - Lao Tzu


It’s true.  It the most literal sense, one cannot achieve a goal, or complete a journey, without taking a step towards the goal.  No matter how trivial a task may seem, this quote is meant to bring perspective that even the most inconsequential of actions is needed to complete a journey...a single step.  

Where this quote leaves much to be desired, however, is the scope of the journey.  Not every side journey is “1000 miles”.  Some goals are, figuratively, only feet away.  Others may seem so distant that a single step would be insignificant.  Regardless, the second step, and the third and forth and so on could not occur without that first step.


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