"It may seem boring, but it is the boring things I remember the most."
~Russell, Adventure Scout from the animated film Up
My daughter and I went to see the film Up last weekend. The buzz about the film was all good, but the widow buzz held a warning...good film, heart wrenching theme, message that may speak straight to your heart. Once again, the widow buzz did not disappoint.
What is a park to you? A place to walk your dogs, read a book among nature, or just listen to the chirping birds?
For me, I'll be honest with you all....Starting at the age of 16 the park became a place where Michael and I could get away from our parents, sit on a picnic table and have lunch , and do what teenagers do (I'll let your imagination go wild). As we grew older it was a place for us to soak up the sun and read from our favorite authors.
Dear Wonderful Widows.
Grieving is a self-centered act. It must be. It requires paying attention to one’s own broken heart, taking the time needed to adjust to a very different existence, and learning to live in a changed world. Grieving requires self-care.
This is especially true for widows with children. We eventually find that the only way our children will be OK is if we are OK. And the only way we will be OK is if we are willing to tend to ourselves.
I've moved twice since David passed. Both moves necessary, emotional, and exhausting. I moved into this house 3 months ago. I had unopened boxes from both moves and at some point I just stopped unpacking. Those that remained were shoved into the guest bedroom with the door shut. From time to time I would consider opening the door and organizing the crap I piled on the bed and in the closet... Until this week, it was only a thought. I had completely forgotten what was even in the boxes I kept hidden away.Read more
Do you ever have one of those days when you think that nothing, NOTHING could top the last stupid thing that happened to you?
Today was one of those days.
I had three very stupid, and potentially painful, items in my mailbox.
All three were from our government.
I will refrain from saying any more on that.Read more
About three years ago I started joking with Michele that I wanted to wear a black t-shirt with word "bitter" printed on it to identify myself as a bitter widow. She refused to let me, more out of fear of the reaction of my poor grieving family members than anything else, but her point was well taken. Wearing the bitter t-shirt would only be funny if all who saw me wear it could be truly comfortable in the knowledge that I was not actually bitter.Read more
I married Phillip Hernandez on June 16, 2000. Our first date was January 16, 2000~and there were more than a few people who openly questioned our sanity when we announced our intention to marry. Divorce rates for blended families were quoted to us, some wondered aloud how we could be certain this was the right choice after such a short courtship, and other people shook their heads in wonder at our rash behavior.Read more
Over the past four years grief and I have reluctantly become friends. Grief is not the kind of friend I can call in the middle of the night when I am sad, but rather the kind of friend who sits quietly at the end of my bed while I cry myself to sleep. Grief may be away for weeks or even months at a time, but the knock of this friend is now as familiar to me as my own voice. There is no need to explain my sorrow to grief; she understands my process better than I do. Grief knows I will get up again no matter how hard I have been hit by her power, and patiently stands as a witness to my ability to regain my balance time and time again. When grief calls, I stop what I am doing because I have learned that she must be answered. When I quit trying to escape her, I found an unexpected comfort by her side. She calls me and repels me; guides me and confuses me; moves me forward and throws me back.Read more
I never went to the movies solo. For as long as I can remember I had someone to my left or right to share my popcorn and Sour Patch Kids with. Michael, on the other hand, loved catching the latest flick on his own. It was as if he had some freedom I hadn't quite mastered.Read more
Sometime after Mike's funeral, someone put a book into my hand. The book was Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning.
Although I did not get past chapter one, (I was unable to concentrate long enough to read much at all and I am pretty sure I have a different spiritual leaning than the author), the title spoke to me. It still speaks to me, almost nine years later when life happens differently than I think it should.