I recently ventured out on an 18 hour solo road trip. I have been on road trips and driven long hours but never to this length and by myself, so there were apprehensions. 18 hours of a task in which you have no other company but oneself can be a scary thing. Thoughts, memories, what-ifs all take full reign and can be exhausting and draining.Read more
I arrived back home (Cape Cod) from my vacation and the Conference on Widowhood late last night and went straight to bed, more tired than tired.
This morning I got up and took a look around.
The grass needed to be mowed, the garden needed to be weeded, and the house had a layer of fine dust that I couldn’t see but I knew was there. My desk was the same messy mess that I left a week and a half ago and my voice mail was full.
Here's my happy face. This smile isn't fake, it was very sincere at that moment - I'm sure the free margaritas were enough to buy some sincerity, but I could be wrong. ;-)Read more
The word remember has taken on a new meaning since Phil died. Looking back is both painful and comforting. Sometimes recalling a specific event that I shared with Phil causes a jarring pain in my chest. These memories are often visceral...the atmosphere of a specific restaurant; the inflection of Phil's brother's voice; or the smell of a hotel room when you first pass through the doorway.Read more
My coach once shared a quote with me that said, “Take the Leap and Build the Wings on the Way Down.”
That was in 2006, about a year and a half after my husband Rory passed away, when I found myself at a major crossroad both personally and professionally. To bottom line it, I knew I had to make significant changes in the way I worked, how much I worked, how available and present I was for my young son and it was also time for some self-care.Read more
It is Anneke’s ‘Sweet Sixteen’ today.
On the one hand, I can’t really believe this day has arrived and her father is still gone. Like somehow, at some point he should have walked in the front door and with little fanfare saying “I’m back.” It has been 8 plus years. She has been without him longer than she had him. I should know better by now.
"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.
This picture is a narrow, winding street in the village of Stamford, England. It's a gorgeous town of stone buildings, quaint shops, quiet pubs, and lovely sheep fields. I've more than a few memories of the place. I'm not thinking about the little town though as I look at this photo. I'm entranced by the path the road is portraying, and I'm considering what is around the corner.Read more
I have been on my back for the last 3 weeks or so, nursing an inflamed sacroiliac joint. What a pain! Literally. Every turn and twist, every journey to the bathroom (all of 25 painful feet) and every trek to the kitchen elicits mild and not-so-mild expletives. Thankfully, my daughter is in school and the walls are my only witness.
Of course, lots of time on one's back allows for insights, welcome or unwelcome. I do wish these marvelous insights would happen when I was licking, say, a large, double chocolate ice cream cone instead of lying supine on an ice pack.
But no, my insights seem to come to me when I have finally over-done something or other (stacking wood, mowing the lawn... talking...) and have no choice but to cry "uncle" and finally settle down to listen to my body's teachings.
Dear Wonderful Widows,
Last night was the first evening of this month's ‘Widows Dating Again Class’. It was fun and I know we all learned a lot.
What struck me after the class was how truly vulnerable widows are. I don’t mean that we are vulnerable to unscrupulous men.
We are vulnerable to our own need to connect, to touch, to be touched, and to our desire to rid ourselves of the devastating loneliness of loss.
If we expected our husband to die or if he died suddenly, the loneliness of loss is always sudden. There is no way to prepare for being alone and no way to anticipate and prepare for the unremitting loneliness that follows. It is this loneliness that makes widowhood so long and so arduous. And it is this loneliness that has us make mistakes.