Release

I am a teapot (minus the short and stout)...or should I say, a tea kettle.

There are moments in my day, week, or month where the "pressure"/emotions inside of me become so overwhelming that they have to find some outlet to release all that is about to combust inside of my heart.

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mine. all mine.

11_14_09.jpgI wonder how many decisions we make a day on average. Five? Fifty? Five hundred?

The small ones have never been of much consequence. Brush my teeth or not? Wear pink high heels or brown loafers? Watch The Nature of Things or 22 Minutes?

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five weeks

11_12_09.jpg5 weeks ago

today.

things were perfect.

healthy, happy family.

11 minutes after 3:00pm

on that same day,

my world

fell apart.

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I Didn't Sign Up For This .....

... but then, neither did you, right?

It's been one of those weeks ... and it's not even half way over yet!

I am totally sick of being a single parent. I'm tired of having to do all of this on my own when I really don't know what the hell I'm doing a lot of the time. 

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Who's Writing This Anyway?

11_11_09.jpgSo I checked out the uplifting song of Musical Monday, which I listened to several times last night...and it did inspire me and lift my spirits. Thanks Michele and I hope your are busy writing your next chapter right now!

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Musical Monday

11_09_09.JPGMuch of the music that spoke to me right after Phil's death was important because the lyrics articulated feelings I was incapable of expressing. Even now, after writing countless words about my journey through the loss of my husband, there are times when nothing communicates my inner turmoil like the phrases penned by someone else. 

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The End Comes

April 12, 2009
Art is back in the hospital.

Friday was when it happened. Low white blood cells, he started a fever.

Today, Sunday, yes. That is the day today.

He has viral menengitis.
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Why?

11_07_09.jpgWhy: adv. For what purpose, reason, or cause; with what intention, justification, or motive

Now we know there are definitions, but in this case it is three letters that come together to become a word that has a way of haunting those of us who have felt cheated of a lifetime with our soul mates.

"Why him?", "Why me?","Why us?", "Why so young?", "Why so suddenly?", "Why so violently?" 
...and the list goes on.

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the hardest part

11_06_09.JPGAs a widow with young children, the worst thing about parenting now is NOT watching fathers whirl their delighted little girls around in the air or push their little boys on the swings. It is NOT arriving to your child's dance recital alone and wishing that someone was there to experience the joy and pride with you. It is NOT that you are now the only one to remember the day of your little one's birth or what their first word was. It is NOT the strange and uncomfortable silence when your child announces to the check-out clerk that "daddy is dead". No, the worst thing about being a widowed parent is that you can't fix that their other parent is gone....forever.

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why I wear her ring

11_05_09.jpgforgot to mention

what happened

when i went to 

the doctor with madeline, 

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