• Food on table for blog by DC widow writer Marjorie Brimley

    Highs and Lows

    Every night at dinner, we go around the table and share our highs and lows. Usually, Claire’s highs revolve around some sort of fun activity (“baking cakes with mom!”) and Austin’s highs are often about the food we are eating (he is my child who really loves my cooking, bless him.) Tommy is more of a wild card. With less ability to carefully reflect on his day, he often copies Austin or says something nonsensical. But over the past week he’s had a theme: his father. Tommy still calls Shawn by his name, something I’ve tried long and hard to change but I’ve come to accept. The thing is, Tommy…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley looks at phone with boyfriend at sunset

    Deserving It

    Over the past few months, I’ve been telling my friends, family and online community about my new relationship. “I’m so happy,” I say, honestly, and for those people who can see my face, they know that it’s true. Do you know what people almost always say back to me? “You deserve it!” When I hear this, I always say “thank you” and smile. I know that others are trying to say that they are so glad that I’ve been able to meet someone who makes me so happy. I get it. My dad and many of my friends have used this phrase when talking to me. In fact, I’ve said…

  • Field at sunrise for blog by DC widow writer Marjorie Brimley
    New Perspectives

    You Can Do This. You Are Doing This.

    Sometimes when I’m on a run, I feel real clarity about my life. There’s something about the way that running strips down my insecurities and worries and eventually – usually near the end – I can often feel answers to questions I’m pondering. This only happens when I run alone. For the past few months, I’ve been running much more frequently with my partner Chris, and for much of late June and early July, I was sidelined with an ankle injury. I’ve only just started running solo again, and while I much prefer to chat with a friend or with my partner while I run, I also see the important…

  • Steaming coffee as described in post by DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    Ask A Widow

    Ask a Widow: How Do I Meet Other Young Widows?

    About once a week, I get a message that goes something like this: My husband died six months ago, and now I’m a 35-year-old widow. I’ve gotten to the point where the grief is somewhat manageable, but my problem now is that I feel so isolated. My friends want to help, but they just can’t understand what it’s like to be me. I’ve tried going to spousal loss groups, but everyone is twice my age. How can I find a group of young widows in my area? For a long time, my replies to these emails were always the same: “I have no real answers for you. I found people…

  • path in woods for blog by DC widow writer Marjorie Brimley

    It’s Not Up To You

    “Wow, that’s great!” she says to me, after I tell her that my boyfriend Chris has been staying with me and the kids for much of the past few months. She is just an acquaintance, really, but I can tell that there’s a “but” that’s coming soon. “It’s pretty quick though, isn’t it?” And there it is. Judgement. I mean, I’m sure she didn’t mean for it to sound judgmental. But I can see it in her eyes, and feel it in that question. Because it is quick. Our love affair didn’t develop over years and years – it was the lightning-fast type of falling in love that sometimes happens.…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley helps son Tommy with shirt
    New Perspectives

    You’re Not Really a Widow Anymore

    A few days ago, Austin woke up early and came downstairs. I had been writing, but I paused to talk to him for a few minutes as he ate his cereal. We discussed what we were going to do that day, and then he wanted to know what I was doing on my computer. “I’m trying to figure out what to write for my blog,” I told him. “Do you have any ideas?” “There’s not really anything for you to write about anymore,” he said, simply. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well, you’re not really a widow anymore,” he replied. When I gently asked him why he thought this,…