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 LoveRead more
I’m on the road again.
This time it was from Jersey, south to Maryland.
Every piece of the road, every rest stop, every billboard, every bridge…all were familiar to me. Chuck and I drove this route our second year out as Happily Homeless, as we made our way to Key West for the first time.
Our red Ford Escape and miles to go, absorbing the anticipation of all the alone time we’d have, exploring the sunny beaches and hidden treasures of the far south.
It was before his first cancer, before the desperation of surgeries and uncertainty and exhaustion and then…hope. He beat it. We were okay. Our world was alright again.
And on we traveled.Read more
Of course you’ll always miss your husband…..
It’s the but that you can read into those little dots at the end of that sentence that contain the crux of what the person is really saying.
….don’t hang onto the grief….
….it’s your decision to be happy or not….
…..if you’re still struggling with grief, maybe you should go on medications….
Add to this whatever you wish.Read more
I feel compelled, now that I’ve passed the 3 year mark of my widowhood (as of April 21), to write one of those numbered lists of what helped me get through to this mark...
Really, honestly, though, I couldn’t tell you how I’ve gotten here. All I can tell you is that I look in the mirror at myself and ask how the FUCK have you done this? How have you survived for 3 fucking years with Chuck’s absence when you couldn’t imagine one fucking minute without him?
How have you done this?Read more
I wonder, frequently, when grief changed from a normal, human response to the death of a loved one, to a condition that, seemingly, must be gotten through (with all due speed, thank you very much for your consideration), with clinical protocols assigned to it?
When did grief get designated as complicated and unhealthy and uncomfortable and perceived as an enemy? When did our culture start demanding of us that we, as grievers, choose life as quickly as possible, focus only on the happy memories of life and not dwell in the layers of sorrow that come with death? When did grief become something to hide from the world at large?
When did we medicalize grief so that our approach is clinical instead of soulful?Read more
I really am crazy.
I know it.
But I must do a fairly good job of appearing not only not crazy but really rational and okay, because nobody else thinks I’m crazy.
They would if they knew what my heart really looks like and what the inside of my mind looks like.
But none of that is evident on the outside.Read more
A dear friend and Air Force widow sister said to me last weekend, in response to my endless questions to her about this grief (she’s 6 years out), and time frames and, oh, you know, everything...she said this to me, and I’ve reflected on it in the days since.
It isn’t that it goes away.
We just get stronger, and we carry it differently.Read more
This is a list. Not a gratitude list necessarily, but a list that does include some good shit, nonetheless. And sometimes it’s easier to write in list form than prose form.
I have to remind myself, as many of us do, I expect, that this widowhood is, as I learned in AA, a matter of progress, not perfection. Because I, for one, consistently seem to expect more of myself than is realistic. By which I mean, I continually scan my body and mind and heart to see where I am in this grief and why I’m not further along, even as my mind tells me to stop such nonsense and lays out all the reasons why I need to stop such nonsense.
Still it continues. But I’m getting better at just letting it be and not gauging my grief by anyone else’s grief.
So...progress, not perfection.Read more
Is it just me? I wonder, even as I know it isn’t just me. Logically and because I literally know otherwise, it isn’t just me.
There’s a boat load of men and women through time immemorial who have lived this shit that I'm living, that we're all living.
And yet, my brain doesn’t let up about it.Read more