Making New Footprints

08_04_09.jpgThis weekend would have been my 17th wedding anniversary. Hard to believe this is the fourth one I will celebrate without him. Inconceivable really, and yet here it is. Another year passed. Our last anniversary together, lucky number 13, we went to dinner at our favorite restaurant (the Little Texas Bistro, damn I miss that place). The last three years I’ve done something on that day to celebrate, and this year will be no different. 

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What Kind of Closet?

08_01_09_1.jpgThere are lots of things we put in closets. There are things you expect to find inside like sweaters, dresses, and shoes. Then there are the other things that you can't find a place for like old yearbooks, memory boxes, or last year's tax returns. Perhaps there are mothballs, spiderwebs, or the odd price tag from a purchased item....all of this you might find behind the doors of your wardrobe.

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What Kind of Man?

08_01_09_2.JPGWhat kind of man is capable of loving a widow? Would he always wonder if he measured up to the dead man whose image has a prominent place in my bedroom? How would he handle the mention of said dead husband in everyday conversation? At some point would he tire of having to be patient while a grief wave rolled, unannounced, over his girl? What would having a partner who was deeply in love with someone else be like? Um, could I do that? Could I love someone confidently knowing that they loved someone else with a deep, undying passion? How would standing beside a person who spends 90% of her time talking about, writing about, and thinking about her dead husband make me feel?

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Road Trip

I recently ventured out on an 18 hour solo road trip. I have been on road trips and driven long hours but never to this length and by myself, so there were apprehensions. 18 hours of a task in which you have no other company but oneself can be a scary thing. Thoughts, memories, what-ifs all take full reign and can be exhausting and draining.

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Still human...

07_31_09.JPGI arrived back home (Cape Cod) from my vacation and the Conference on Widowhood late last night and went straight to bed, more tired than tired.

This morning I got up and took a look around.
The grass needed to be mowed, the garden needed to be weeded, and the house had a layer of fine dust that I couldn’t see but I knew was there. My desk was the same messy mess that I left a week and a half ago and my voice mail was full.

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110 Carriage Place

07_30_09.jpgThere's something daunting about entering the place where your life last thrived. I know for a while now that I had to make a trip to Clarksville, TN, where David and I were stationed, but I chose not to dwell on the idea. To be honest, we'd be happy in a cardboard box so long as both of us fit in it, but Clarksville was never our favorite place to be. Yet, it was our home, we built a life and had a routine... we were happy here. At one point, I vowed never to come back. But as fate has it, our tenants moved out and our house needed some fixing. So! Off to Clarksville... 

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Life goes rushing by ....

07_29_09.JPG.... way too quickly sometimes. Or is it just mine?

I doubt that ..... look who I'm writing to. We ALL know that life went rushing by too fast.

But my life as been so hectic in the last day or so, that not only did I not write on my own blog yesterday, I forgot to write my post for this blog!!!

So, here it is.

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Put on a Happy Face...

07_28_09.jpgHere's my happy face. This smile isn't fake, it was very sincere at that moment - I'm sure the free margaritas were enough to buy some sincerity, but I could be wrong. ;-)

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Remembering When

07_27_09.JPGThe word remember has taken on a new meaning since Phil died. Looking back is both painful and comforting. Sometimes recalling a specific event that I shared with Phil causes a jarring pain in my chest. These memories are often visceral...the atmosphere of a specific restaurant; the inflection of Phil's brother's voice; or the smell of a hotel room when you first pass through the doorway. 

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The Freedom To Be

07_26_09.JPGOverheard in the hotel check-in line at the San Diego Marriott..."Did you hear that there is a WIDOWS conference here in the hotel this weekend?" The unspoken next line was most likely, who would want to go to a widows conference? Ugh. And don't we look miserable? ;)

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