Portions of the following post are from about a year and a half ago...at the time I really thought I was better, and all things considered I was.
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.
Even though I have now lived through the month of August five times since Phil's death, I once again failed to notice the signs of the anniversary flu as August 31st approached this year. Maybe you recognize some of the symptoms?Read more
As I type this letter to you I am wrestling with the fact that you have been dead for five years. Even though I have lived without you for 1,825 days...every once in awhile I still feel I could turn over my shoulder and you would be there with a big grin wondering what I will think of your latest joke.
... is different.
Very, very different.
I wish I had known that.
I wish I had known a widow who could have told me that.
Someone who could have warned me.
Lately I have been asked by more than one person when I think I might be done with this whole, "widow thing." Hmmm...done. Well I guess that depends on the definition of done.
See the thing is, I will always be widowed. Remarriage doesn't erase my widowhood. Being happy doesn't erase the memories I have of lying in bed dry heaving as I screamed in agony over the news that the man I loved was dead. Loving a different man doesn't make me stop loving Phil. There is no such thing in my mind as replacement, and I can't figure out what done would look like.
For the last couple of weeks I have been in Australia with my three kids, my daughter's best friend, and my fiancé. We spent ten magical days touring, laughing, learning Australian phrases, introducing the kids to Michael's friends and family, and exploring our new family dynamics. We couldn't have asked for a better first togetherness trip.Read more
... for falling in love again?
Ummmm ...... not so much.
I've heard and read a lot about this topic lately.
I've seen what others have written about it.
And I've seen quite a bit of guilt.
Why do we do that to ourselves?Read more
Happiness has pervaded
before, during and after
my time with
and since she died,
it’s been my friends
and family and stranger friends
and music and books and
travel and writing and
memories and photography
and baseball and cheeseburgers
and beer and this blog
and countless other things
that have all been
of happiness for me.
and then there’s madeline.
Tonight I toasted my youngest son's confirmation with me, myself, and I. The ceremony was really beautiful, we enjoyed a lively lunch with our family to celebrate, and at the end of the day I felt peaceful and content. So, I popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, and toasted to a joy filled day.
As I poured my solo glass of bubbly, I laughed at myself for opening the bottle just for me. I also struggled with a slight sense of melancholy since I was once again reviewing the highlights of the day alone.
It has been such a long time since I have written you a letter. In fact, my eyes are welling up now realizing that I talk to you all the time in my heart but those words are no longer committed to paper. Remember the letters I wrote to you every day for the first year? I spilled my frustrations, feelings, fears, and memories across every page. More often than not the ink ran because I cried all over the journal paper as I scribbled frantically all the words I desperately wished I could speak into your ear.