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.
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 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.
I've been glancing at David's journal for the past week. It sits on a special bookshelf in our living room. I used to read it every night before my pathetic attempt at sleep but it's been a while since I've opened the pages. This small, brown, soft leather journal is eminently special to me. His hands have touched every page of the tattered book, on a good day or bad day this journal was his connection to me. His outlet when I couldn't be. Finally, today, I opened it... for the hundredth time.
David's front journal entry, November 24, 2005:
"Baby, not everything in this book is going to be easy to read. These are my thoughts and feelings. My fears and Love notes. I am going to spill my guts, try to write songs and pour out my heart. When I'm done... this is for you.
I love you with all my heart, Nicole.
So the 2 year mark has come and passed. In one 24 hour period I am starting on another year in this new world I live in.
As the angelversary arrives people always seem to ask how I'm doing (Go figure), then the day arrives and it seems as if it was the build up to the day which was the worse. Then the day comes, and it seems like any other day in a way, but I have realized it proved me wrong this year. Its subtle changes show themselves at random moments or in quiet moments of reflection.
Every day I get up at 5 AM, put on my bathrobe and head to the kitchen where I make my first cup of good, strong, coffee. Cup in hand, I return to my bed, slide between the covers and sip, doing my best to make my coffee last as long as possible. I love this time of day. It feels decadent to do nothing but ponder the hours ahead. Now that it is spring, my windows are open and I hear the sounds of the season, mostly cardinals, the occasional very bossy crow, and every 15 minutes or so a foghorn warning the fishing boats of the rocks of Vineyard Sound. And these days my cat Sophie joins me.Read more
There is a Fleetwood Mac song called "Say Goodbye," that has broken my heart repeatedly over the last four years. I have found the concept of saying goodbye to Phil so difficult that I have avoided it like the plague since he died. You see, there are still speed bumps on this road of grief that I have yet to cross over.Read more
I've spent the holiday weekend in Cali with the other Michele and head back to Texas today. Although the weekend has been packed with activities (sushi night out, a long and beautiful walk, visits with family, a day at the beach, etc.), we've managed to cram in some fantastic talks and some really great quality time.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.