Beautiful Ramblings

It is my privileged to write to you each week and I hope my blog inspires you to question what is stirring in your heart.  I encourage you to lean into your grief.  And, to feel it to it's depth.  This isn't easy, but it is the only way through this mess.

I believe that we are lead back towards life and living when we allow ourselves to be still, and sit in the "nothingness" where grief lives.  Visiting this empty place is difficult, but it is necessary. This quiet place holds the blueprints of our new, changed life.  

I know you are scared to go to the edge of this place; admittedly, I am too.  But, we have to take a leap of faith.  With time, I am gathering momentum, and I am going to leap and build my wings on the way down. 

It has been  over two years since Mike died and I realize that what I fear most about the future is not the risks and uncertainty.  What I am afraid of is letting the opportunities for change pass me by.  I am afraid that I will settle into an ordinary life when I want an extraordinary life. 

I am worried that I will play small, when my potential is big.  As I write to you each week I am challenging us both not to shrink.  I am keeping us accountable.  I do not want either of us to fall back into an easy comfortableness when we can leap forward, towards a bold life.  I want you to manifest the best in yourself.  Go on, begin to recreate a beautiful life for yourself.  

From the Ledge with Wings in Hand,


Everything but the Kitchen Sink

As widowed people we do not talk about this enough.  When they died, our sex lives died with them.  There I said it. 

Sexual bereavement is a thing.  It is very real and it profoundly affects us as we live on without the one we love.  Daily, we miss the intimacy of being a couple.  And, nothing, not one thing can replace this.  The daily nuances that exist between two lovers.  Your unspoken language.  The secret words you whispered to one another.  The tone he reserved for just you. The dialect of love.   

As surviving spouses we miss the stolen glances.  The way his adoring eyes watched me prepare a meal.  The winks he sent me across the room during a dinner party.  Tenderly placing my hand on his leg as he drove us some place.  Walking side by side and casually reaching for his familiar hand; and, then interlocking my fingers with the man I love. Their hands.  Their kiss.  That place on the small of my back that only he knew.  The way he gently brushed the hair out of my eyes before his lips met mine.  The way I fell into his chest as he pulled me to him.  All of this.  Every last thing.  This is the stuff we ache for.  This is the stuff that I quietly grieve.



I miss your hands on me.

I miss your touch against my skin.


I desperately miss having you beside me on an ordinary Sunday night.


I wish I could turn my head and see you here in front of me.


I want my dinner companion back. 

I miss him.


Eating alone while I talk to my dead lover is killing my appetite.

It is not food I crave, it is your physical presence that I hunger for.


I long to taste your kiss.

I want to run my fingers across your shoulders as I set your plate down.

I want to drink up your smile as I swallow my wine.


As I sit here alone, 

I close my eyes,

And, I feel you come up behind me and wrap your arms tightly around me 

- like you always did.


I remember how you’d slowly turn me around to face you.

We’d stop and briefly look at one another.

If I could go back, 

I’d stay there locked in that moment.


I remember feeling something magical happening inside those fleeting seconds when we looked into each other’s Souls.

We stood still, but within this space we held for each other, we travelled someplace else. 

A place without a name. 

A place that is gently suspended outside of time and space. 


Maybe this is the place where you exist now.

- I don’t know.


Nowadays, I slip far into the depths of my heart space remembering how this type of intimacy felt. 

To say I miss this connection to another human being is an understatement.

I’m starving for you.

And, tonight, I long for you to take my hand and lead me away from the sink full of dirty dishes because they can wait, but you can not.


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Having All Your Birthdays in One Day 2


It was Mike’s birthday on March 22nd.  

On this day, I will always "celebrate" him. 

There will never be a birthday of his that I don't think tenderly of him.

On his birthday I purposefully choose to remember the way he lived. 

I  celebrate the life and love we shared together. 

This is how I try to honor him everyday - not just on his birthday. 


That being the case, I admit that I want to do something more on his special day, but this year I went into the day without deciding what this might be.  A plan didn't seem as important this year as it did in previous years.  Maybe because I have done this twice before, I sort of knew what to expect.  As always, the day would come and he would be absent.  

I know that there is nothig I need to do to adequately celebrate my dead fiance's birthday.  There is nothing I should do as a "proper" widow.  The date exists, but Mike does not.  And, it is incredibly hard to "celebrate" when the person you are honoring is absent; but, for me, I can not let the day pass without acknowledging it.  

This is his third birthday I have celebrated without him.  And, it passed easier than the two previous ones.  I am not sure why, but I was not as emotional this year.  Of course I missed him, like I do every single day; but on this third birthday the missing was not super overwhelming.  I simply missed him as usual; and,  not particularly more intensely because it was his birthday.  You would assume that this would make me happy because maybe this is progress.  But, like all things in grief, this change was bittersweet.  I don't feel good about it or necessarily bad about my less extreme emotional response to Mike's birthday.  It did surprise me though.  I think maybe I am getting "used" to Mike's absence.  Maybe I am beginning to "accept" his deadness.   I hate that he died and I am not sure I will ever accept his death in full.  But, after nearly 2.5 years living without him I think being alone has become routine.


Below, I have written about the "birthday routine" I have developed to help me successfully celebrate Mike's day without him.  Maybe this will help others who are facing a birthdate without their person.   ~S.



In the grief world people do all different types of things to mark birthdays.  The way we choose to celebrate our person are varied.  The only thing constant is that the celebrations are fitting for those who died.  I like that.  Not one type of birthday celebration will do because the people we are honoring are separate, unique individuals. 


To honor their person, some people release balloons and the environmentalist scold them, others set off lanterns that are biodegradable - they don't receive any backlash.  Some choose to cook their person's favorite meal.  Some people gather friends and family together.  Some go to the cemetery.  Some have cake.  Some people spend the day alone - in bed.   There really is no correct way to mark a birthday for someone who died, or for someone who is living for that matter.


For me, on significant days, I find that I am less out of sorts if I have a plan of some kind.  When special days occur on the calendar I prefer to organize  something.  If I don't plan something, then grief leads me places I don't want to go. And, this year, I decided that having a loose plan was good enough.  I followed my instincts and I suggest you do too.  This year, I didn't need to organize an elaborate celebration to mark Mike's third unbirthday.   


Still, creating a shape for the day is what works best for me.  You might be different.  Grief has many commonalities, but each of our experiences is unique.  So, I think that we should do whatever is best for us.  We should do whatever soothes our Soul.


Because I love to write, it's not surprising that I will write Mike a birthday letter.  I will go to the grave and tie a balloon to the shepherd's hook I have placed with love behind his headstone.  To Mike, there will be a handwritten message on his birthday balloon.   


I will stand there, on his grave, wishing with all my heart that things were different.  I will play him some of our favorite songs, and I will toast him with his favorite wine.  And, then I will cry. (And, I cried a lot less than I expected on his third birthday.)


Before I leave, I will read Mike his birthday letter.  And, then, I will cry some more.  My graveside visit is very precise and somewhat predictable because I have completed this ritual for all our significant dates.  I know how it feels.  I know what to expect.  And, I find it comforting in some strange way.  For me, it feels right to honor Mike in this way.  My rituals are sacred and intimate for us.


Mike's life was bigger than my ritual of reading him a birthday letter and toasting him with a glass of Malbec.  His love for me was deeper than just me, standing at his graveside offering a balloon to the man she loves. But, this will have to do.


I honor Mike every day - in both big and small ways.  Daily, I credit him with the profound impact he has on my life.   I believe that we naturally "celebrate" our person, in their absence, every day of the year.


These last few years, I didn't buy him a birthday card, instead I wrote him a heartfelt letter.  I also did not buy him a gift because, well, he was dead and he couldn't open it.  But, it felt strange to "celebrate" his birthday with no gifts.  I felt the need to figure out how to make his birthday feel more like a real and authentic birthday celebration.  Then, all of a sudden, an idea came to me.


Mike died.  But, I didn't.  I am still very much alive. So, thinking outside the box, I bought myself a gift to celebrate Mike's birthday.  It felt kind of strange and awkward.  But, I also felt good because I know that it made him happy that I was doing something special for me - in honor of him - on his birthday. 


My gesture had nothing to do with the "gift" itself.  The gift was symbolic because I actively acknowledged that I was still here.  I celebrated that I am alive and that I can still enjoy life; while also remembering and honoring Mike.


I've decided that it will always be my tradition to gift myself something on Mike's birthday.  When he was alive he spoiled me; and, he loved to surprise me with gifts.  He bought me inexpensive little trinkets and he also gave me very beautiful gifts.  It was never the gift that was important to me.  It was the way in which the gift was given to me.  Mike gave to me from his heart.  Whatever he offered me was given with all his love; and, therefore, it was a treasure to me. 


When Mike was alive, everyday felt like a celebration. Ordinary days were magical.  And, I want those days back.  I want to be able to share my life with him the way we imagined we would. But, this can’t be. So instead here are some words to help you know the man I love.





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I'm a Mother, Ex-Wife, Fiancee, and Widow who has been forced to live a life different than the one I imagined. Still, I'm a Lover of Life. Somehow, I'm still a fan of Fate. And, I actively seek Joy -this has made all the difference.
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