I’m on my way to pick up the kids at preschool and decide to stop at Panera to grab a decaf with extra, extra cream and no sugar. I wait in line thinking about all that I have accomplished in my kid-free two and a half hours when I hear the woman in front of me order a Sticky Toffee cookie. I’m transported back in time.Read more
I’m thinking about getting a second family, one with a wife and kids. I could take out an ad in a newspaper, “Man looking for wife and kids to help him figure out his own children. Family must know man and his three children will live in another house.” That should get me married in less than two weeks.Read more
I’m a fat widow.
Yes I am.
You don’t need to give me an awkward smile and insist that I’m not a fat widow.
I am and I own it.
I give other widowed people a bad name. I shatter the image of the grief-ridden widow/widower by eating and actually enjoying it. And I’ve been doing this for nearly three years now. I feel guilty not just because I should have better eating habits to begin with but because somewhere in my subconscious, I believe that I should have lost interest in anything food related when I became a widow. This seems to be the norm for others I know.Read more
I want to be a closer in baseball. Or at least I want to think like one. I was watching a game on TV and one of the best closers in baseball gave up back to back home runs and his team lost the game. The next night he gets another chance to close out the game. This time: he walks the first batter, hits the second batter, and the third batter hits a double which scores two runs. They lose again.Read more
I walked by the building, intentionally, on the way home from seeing Woody Allen’s new film “Midnight in Paris”, a poetic reflection on the seeming attraction of former eras.
The access to the building is now sealed. Not just boarded over with plywood that I could pry loose. Not even with brick that I might be able to chip away with the right tools and enough sweat. No, the former door is now a solid wall of impenetrable concrete cinder block.Read more
I hate to think I need bad stuff to happen to put life in perspective. Haven’t I already tortured myself enough, trying to understand painful life lessons after my wife’s passing? After three years, haven’t I come out on the other side a better person?Read more
Not long after Chris died, I received a wedding invitation addressed to "Wendy and Guest." It was one of the first visual affronts to my newly-acquired widowed senses. I remember looking at the envelope and wondering, "Who the heck is Wendy and Guest?"Read more
Sometimes I want to scream at people: “You Can’t Fix Me!”
...because sometimes, I get so sick of hearing that I need to “look after myself” or “do something for myself” or “make it happen” or “chin up” or “forge ahead.”
I’m trying to keep us steady in this new normal…this Clayton’s normal…and there are some moments where I feel like we are OK, we three.
We joke around. We talk about our day. We read and laugh and play. We do chores. We have a routine that ensures we joke and laugh and read and clean and play….….and I am the supreme leader with whom resistance is futile.Read more
On my way to my morning breakfast taco place, I had to dodge a large truck in the road carrying a huge backhoe. Oh brother, I thought. They are going to tear something up. That’s going to be an inconvenience for someone. And I didn’t pay another thought to it, at least until I drove by on my way back home just thirty minutes later.
The beast that was once on the back of a flatbed truck was now dancing on top of wreckage that just moments ago was someone’s home. What just a few minutes ago was a place of family, birthdays, and rocking chairs had been, in mere minutes, reduced to a pile of crushed wood, steel and stone. Where just minutes ago sat a place of warmth, happiness and holidays, now was a treacherous wasteland filled with splinters, shards of glass, and razor sharp edges no one would dare explore.
It shocked me how fast it happened.