• Fall leaves for blog by DC widow writer Marjorie Brimley Hale
    From the Archives

    From the Archives: Dating…It’s Just Like Improv!

    “Just make sure you’re always meeting in a public place,” my dad said, one night after I told him about an upcoming date I had. He was lying in the recliner, dressed in an old t-shirt and some sweatpants, an outfit that he only wore to bed. It was 8:30, which was close to his bedtime, and I teased him a little. “What do you think I’m going to do, have some guy I’ve never met over for 5:30 dinner with the kids?”  He didn’t reply. He merely raised his eyebrows and slightly pursed his lips. I knew he thought online dating was risky. “Just look, Dad,” I said, showing…

  • Chris Hale, husband of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley Hale
    From the Archives

    From the Archives: A First (Platonic) Night With Chris

    Chris and I were friends for well over a year before I thought it could be something more. Though we’d met years prior, I’d never talked to him for more than a few minutes at a time, usually when I was dropping off a kid for a playdate at his sister Becky’s house and he happened to be in town. But about a year after Shawn died, I was flying through Atlanta, where he lived, and I had a day-long layover. Becky suggested I stay with Chris, and before I had the chance to ask for his number, he texted me. Hi Marjorie—it’s Becky’s brother, Chris. I hear you’ll be…

  • Grandpa Tom looks at DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley Hale
    From the Archives

    From the Archives: Who Do You Want Raising Your Grandkids?

    One morning as I ate the breakfast of eggs my dad had just made for me, I watched him go about his work in the kitchen. He was cleaning up the dishes from the kids and then he wiped Tommy’s mouth with the blue sponge from the sink. I thought about how readily he’d moved in with us after Shawn’s death. For a long time, I’d just accepted the decision as a normal one. But I also knew it couldn’t have been an easy one to make. At that point, he’d been living with us for almost a year. I watched him take a long swipe of the counter with…

  • From the Archives

    From the Archives: Baths and Bedtime with Grandpa Tom

    We never really talked about how long my dad was going to stay, but weeks turned into months, and there he continued to be. After dinner in the evenings, we cleaned up and then we all went upstairs to get ready for bed. It had always been my routine with the kids and my dad joined me without comment immediately after Shawn died and we were home together. Most nights, my dad bathed Tommy and I supervised showers with the older kids. “Only three toys,” I heard him say one night. I came in to find Tommy deciding which bath toys he was going to bring in the tub, picking…

  • Trees for blog by DC widow writer Marjorie Brimley Hale
    From the Archives

    From the Archives: Three-and-a-Half

    I was three-and-a-half when I knew something was different. I sat on the front porch, waiting for a car to pull up, wondering how long it would be until I got to the house where my grandparents lived. I crossed my legs at the ankles, trying not to wrinkle the dress I was wearing for that special occasion. It was pink and it was soft, the kind I liked, the kind that didn’t bunch up too much when I had to sit for long periods of time, and my dark brown hair was down, though my natural curl made it stick out in all directions. My baby sister Lindsay was…

  • Bar scene for blog by DC widow writer Marjorie Brimley Hale
    From the Archives

    From the Archives: Maybe She Will Be the One to Save Me

    One Saturday night in the late fall of 2019 as I was putting my kids to bed, I got a text from my friend Christine. Are you awake? I just picked up someone for you. I showed him your picture! I was laying down in Tommy’s bed, aimlessly scrolling through news stories and social media posts, but I sat up. Did Christine really just write that she had hit on someone for me? What? Are you out? I texted back. We are at a bar. Want his number? Should I give him yours? she asked. Then she sent a string of ideas about how I should start texting him, but…