This is a picture of Grayson and I waiting for Amtrak to take us to Disneyland almost 4 years ago. If you look closely, you can see Daniel's reflection in the glass behind us. He's taking the picture. I didn't realize until he was already gone that his reflection was captured in the photo, and he looks for all the world like a ghost, sort of watching us in the background. Sometimes this picture comforts me, and I do believe that he is watching over us. Other times, the picture just pisses me off; this is me not knowing the light at the end of the tunnel was a train. Either way, that discussion is for another day.Read more
I dread deathiversaries, with my whole soul, as my daughter would say. This dread is instinctual, and has nothing to do with how happy I am in my current life. The creeping feeling of impending doom sneaks up on me at the same time every year, and at odd times when I am distracted by nostalgia or lost in a happy memory. Sometimes the feeling of dread appears as a great crashing wave, hitting me full force from behind and knocking me into the swirling sea of despair, shocked and unprepared. Other times I can hear the drumbeat of the death march from afar, and I have time to steel myself for what lies ahead.Read more
Four years after Phil's death, I am still trying to work out how to do twice as many tasks with half the amount of hands. The anniversary of his death stirs up emotions for the kids each and every year. You would think I could anticipate their reactions to this day of remembering by now, but I can't. My own walk down memory lane includes my children, of course, but each year I get caught up in my own pain and then am surprised once again by theirs.Read more
Michael and I fought....or as I called it....debated, over who took the trash out or burned whose clothes ironing. The minute...the small things. But out of those small things, simple and silly things, I found the most important thing to fight for... And that is our love.Read more
Here in the North East, most public schools began their fall sessions this week.
My sister, a first grade teacher, told me in an email that never in her life had she heard so much crying, five and six year olds being asked to leave their parents, many for the first time. According to my sister, "The sound of sobbing was everywhere."
I remember crying silent but painful tears in the back seat of someone’s car... we were running an errand for the memorial service and barely above a whisper, I asked, "What if I forget..." they too began to weep with me. Finally, they cleared their throat to answer, "You'll always have your memories."Read more
I have decided to carry on Michele's theme of "What I Miss" on Sunday. Because for the past week or so one fact has been glaring me in the face ..... and all over me:
I miss being physically touched.
There are lots of fun observations to be made about the picture above...let's not go there ;) What I love about this picture is that it reminds me of a great day on a great vacation with a great friend. I think I've said before that I sometimes have to remind myself of all the good things and make a list. It's always a long list of good things, and in the past 4 years that list has always included Michele. Yesterday was the anniversary of Michele's husband Phil's death - his "deathiversary" as we choose to call it.Read more
My journey as a widow began four years ago today. Four years seems like both an eternity, and an instant. Standing at the foot of his emergency room bed that day, watching his pulse rate drop to zero, I saw the road ahead of me very clearly. Alone. That was the word that my brain screamed. Alone.Read more
I miss familiarity. I miss being known. I miss lapsitting. I miss having a guaranteed birthday celebration. I miss the knowledge that if I break down on the road Phil is coming for me. I miss every day cell phone calls, transmitting news by just a look, and the daily irritations of sharing life with a partner.Read more