The world talks of the solar eclipse. The day you died, pain eclipsed my world.… Read the blog
Once you got the death sentence, you said there was nothing we could do about it.
But you didn’t die that Christmas, and you didn’t die that spring.
And we got Christmas with the family.
And we got spring in Florida.
And – in between hospital visits – we got summer at home.
We got time with friends.
We got … Read the blog
This is our house.
You planted these ficas in the front yard. You built these wooden pillars to cover the old colonial ones. You carried this bench to the front porch – the one that we brought from our home in Maryland. You cut this grass. You put in the new front door, and put up the new accent lights … Read the blog
You thought you couldn’t live without your Aunt Pat
You thought you couldn’t live without your mom
You thought you couldn’t live without your dad
And now Rick
It gets harder and harder as people leave you. Your special support system. Those who loved you like no other person ever did.
And I type this on the Chromebook you made … Read the blog
Twenty years. We missed each other for a few, early on, when we lived apart. Why did we waste that time?
I sit here alone in the living room, wishing you were next to me. I dread going to bed, the empty bed.
What a journey we’ve had. You’ve taken me to incredible heights and depths. It was a crazy … Read the blog
I never finished writing this journal entry, but it was interesting coming across it several months after Rick died. I didn’t have much time to write, but I’m glad I had this one short entry because it reminds me of how early on the reality of his impending death really started to sink in.
January 1, 2017
It’s hitting me … Read the blog