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
Three whopping years since it happened.
Since my soul mate went to the other side and I ventured out in the unfamiliar world called widowhood.
Since Day 365 I have been haunted by Art. It’s like making it to that day I somehow expected that he’d show up at the door and yell “Just Kidding!” …at which point I would beat him to a pulp and then cover every bloody inch of him with kisses. After Day 367 that fact that he's not coming back is more real, almost tangible. And it makes me so very, very sad. It’s like this low level hum, not quiet irritating, not quite clear, but there, vibrating fast of enough for me to know it’s present, not loud enough to make me crumble. It seems to make my movements, my speech and my joy, not less bright but well, less something more empty perhaps. Like they are in a shadow.Read more
With my 3 year angel-versary in the coming weeks, I thought I'd dig back into posts I wrote in the first months.
Deux ans. Two anniversaries of the day I lost my huge, hairy and hilarious husband.
I've learned so very much in these two short years. A lifetime of lessons. Lessons I didn't really want to know.
The epitaph on Chris’s grave marker says, “Music Was My Refuge.” It is a most appropriate way to remember a man who was a church choir director, a pianist and an organist, a community theater actor, a Norwegian Folk dancer, and a longtime patron of the opera and symphony.Read more
(From December 09)
I had a drink tonight with someone who reminded me to speak my truth.
The truth is today was another day.
The truth is the eight month anniversary is nothing but a date.
The truth is I once stopped counting days. I will now stop counting months.
Well the countdown is over and today is the day. Four years ago today I watched my husband die when only moments before, he had asked me to climb into the hospital bed with him and he’d told me how hard this battle was for him and how much he loved me. We thought we were leaving the hospital the next day; he was only in for dehydration issues from his chemo. We’d only just been told he had 6 months to 2 years. We thought we had more time. We were wrong.Read more