Grief. Love. Magic. A new road. A new life~
I finally had a moment to watch Michele’s keynote address from Toronto this week. As always, it touched me to my bones. It made me stop and consider, in my own life…what dreams did Chuck and I have? Have I continued his dream? Have I dreamed my own dreams?
And, as I considered, my hand drifted down to my right leg, where, on the outside part below the knee, I had a tattoo inscribed my second year of widowhood.
I was at the Sturgis Bike Rally in South Dakota in 2014, the year after Chuck’s death. Our daughter was with me on this stint of my Odyssey of Love and we stumbled into the rally accidentally. Since we were there, we decided to amble around and people watch and while doing so, we came across a tattoo shop. I’d known for a while that I wanted another tattoo, but was uncertain, until that moment we passed it, what I wanted on my leg.Read more
There is a particular and peculiar loneliness of the sort that cannot be imagined for its’ overwhelming and enveloping totality, that strikes me when I am in a crowded room with those who are familiar to me, or not. It’s a loneliness whose depth is equal to the surge of desire I would feel as I rose on my tiptoes to meet Chuck’s lips in a kiss. It is a loneliness that hits like a lightning bolt out of the stormy sky, with thunder rolling in dark tones onwards and onwards and onwards again until I finally have no sense of self or place as it consumes me into it.Read more