• Mother of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    Holidays

    Happy Birthday to My Mom

    My mom would be 72 today, if she had lived beyond middle age. She lived a full life, even if it was short, but she never got to watch her daughters get married or hold her grandchildren. She never became a photographer or a teacher later in life, and she never lived long enough to think about dying her hair or letting it go gray. She missed the many events that come with grown children and grandchildren and she missed the life she could have had. She missed it. And for much of my life when I thought about my mom’s death, I’d think about the events in my life…

  • Family of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley dances in kitchen
    Holidays

    Happy Birthday, Chris

    I am terrible at picking out presents for other people. It’s true. Sure, every once in a while I stumble upon a great cookbook that I can give to a friend or a sequined skirt that I know my sister will love. But mostly I give gift cards or practical things like muffin tins and coffee mugs. I keep a bin of cheap new toys in the basement so that when one of my kids is invited to a party they can just choose something from the “present box.” The idea of going out and shopping for a specific individual is something that fills me with a bit of dread.…

  • Backyard of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    Holidays

    Shawn’s Birthday, Year 3

    I’m doing the best I can to make this summer a happy one for my kids, but it hasn’t always been easy. Back in March, when schools were closing and my dad was leaving, I started to worry about being home for a long time with no possibility of seeing anyone else. How was I going to manage my children and my teaching responsibilities? How was I going to go to the grocery store? What in the world were we going to do all summer, if we couldn’t see our extended family or go to camp? So during that first week of quarantine, I bought a pool. Turns out, it…

  • Letters I love dad for blog post by DC widow writer Marjorie Brimley
    Holidays

    Father’s Day, Year 3

    I try not to look at social media on Father’s Day. I know I’m not alone. A lot of widows purposefully avoid social media on these fraught days – and there are many fraught days. Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day, Christmas, Thanksgiving…the list could go on. Because here’s the thing about social media on days that are celebratory: people post photos of their smiling and (usually) intact families. They sing the praises of the fathers in their children’s lives. This is great, and yet it is all a brutal reminder to me that my own family does not look like it once did. Father’s Day is probably the hardest…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley sits on bench in park with children
    Holidays

    Mother’s Day, Year 3

    I am spending a lot of time with my children right now. I guess we all are. It’s one of the blessings and curses of this pandemic. Every day is family day. Anyway, since I rarely leave my children, they’ve become even more attached to me than usual. It’s meant that bedtime takes longer because no one wants me to leave, and that Claire insists we talk about all sorts of intense subjects at the end of the day. Almost every night as I’m leaving her room she says something like, “don’t die, mama, okay? In case you do, I want you to know that I love you so much.…

  • Kids walking into school with backpacks like children of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    Holidays

    Teacher Appreciation

    The day that I took my husband to the hospital for surgery, we walked our children to school together. I mean, we didn’t really walk, since Shawn couldn’t do that anymore. We drove the car to the school parking lot and then we slowly made our way to the drop off point for the kids. Tommy was still in preschool, so I carried him as we took Austin to his first grade line and then Claire to her third grade line. The night before I had emailed the kids’ teachers and told them that Shawn had stage 4 cancer. “We told our children tonight,” I wrote, “and Austin didn’t seem…