When Rick died suddenly last August, my son Brandon and his wife Lindsey were forced to quickly research the best way to handle explaining his death to my then 2 ½-year-old grandson, Jonas. They didn’t want to confuse him by telling him that his Papa “went away,” because he might think Papa was coming back. They knew he was too … Read the blog
Tag: grief
Memorial Day Weekend, 2018 – A Poem
Serenity was a long holiday weekend.
Me floating in my pool
You, off riding your bicycle
Quiet, stillness, lassitude
Relaxed in the giant float I bought on Amazon
Peace and tranquility
Summer and heat and happiness
Floating, floating, floating
Staring up at the blue sky
Leaves and squirrels rustling in the trees
Pure bliss
Alone, yet not lonely
Alive and … Read the blog
Sitting alone at the Coney Island
I’m sitting alone in the booth at the Coney restaurant. I thought I was used to it by now. I thought nearly nine months without you had inured me to eating alone, sleeping alone, existing alone.
But perhaps not.
I miss so much about you and our time together, but I miss chatting with you the most. I want to … Read the blog
Vestiges of Your Life – A Poem
I cried when I first changed our bed sheets
But any trace of your scent was long gone
I’ve accepted you aren’t coming back
But it’s still very hard to move on
Your things are still just where you left them
On the table right next to the bed
The last glass you drank from still sits there
And there’s … Read the blog
The Tulips in Our Yard – A Poem
I see the tulips in our yard
And I remember
When I used to be excited about spring
Spring meant summer was near
And summer meant time outside with you
Days frolicking in the sun
Evenings lounging in the sultry heat out in our yard
Me swatting mosquitoes
You not
Smells and sounds of summer
The scent of chicken on … Read the blog
An Eternity of Sundays Without Him
Why does it hit so hard sometimes? I move along, I feel myself starting to heal – just a little, and then I’m blindsided with a grief so fresh it feels like he died yesterday.
It’s 8 and ½ months today. My heart was shattered on an August Sunday nearly nine months ago. Sometimes it seems like yesterday that he … Read the blog
It’s all just attempts at distraction.
It’s all just attempts at distraction.
All day long every day.
Each hour brings a wrong note – discord and strife because nothing is the way it’s supposed to be.
The clock ticks and each moment reminds me of what I lost. All day, my rhythms are off. All day, every day, is wrong, soul-jarringly wrong.
Each second reminds me … Read the blog
The Wind Chimes on Our Deck
The wind blows and your spirit speaks to me
From the chimes
under the gazebo
out on our deck
When I put your ashes inside (a little teaspoon of you)
I had no idea
How your memory
would resonate with each sound
throughout my days
and my nights
With a gentle nudge upon every breeze
Each chord brings
a soft … Read the blog
The Blue Chair: A Widow’s Lament
Since Rick died, every time I look at the ugly blue chair, it elicits a different emotion: regret at the arguments we had about it, sadness that he’s gone, and a longing to see him sitting in it again. The blue chair was a significant piece of our history – good and bad.
Rick first mentioned the chair a few … Read the blog
Hope for Widows Blog: Time, Grief, and an Apple Watch
Deciding what to do with one of Rick’s tech toys triggers unexpected grief. Here’s a link to my first blog post as a contributor on the Hope for Widows Foundation website: https://hopeforwidows.org/2018/04/time-grief-and-an-apple-watch/
… Read the blog