• Husband of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley lifts massive pumpkin
    Tributes

    Tell Me About Him

    About a month after Shawn died, I was on the phone with his former boss. She was asking about the kids, but then we started talking about Shawn. She shared stories with me, and I smiled, but mostly I cried. She worried that she was upsetting me, and I reassured her that I wanted to keep talking about Shawn. In fact, it’s all I wanted to do in those early days. I wanted to talk about Shawn all the time. I knew it was inappropriate to tell strangers on the metro and at the grocery store about my dead husband, but I did it anyway. It was a compulsion of…

  • Son of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley as a baby
    What Not to Say

    You’re Not Crazy. You’re Grieving.

    As I type this, Tommy is in timeout for hitting his brother. He’s six, so I don’t think he’s going to turn into a bank robber just because he hit his brother. But in our house, actions have consequences. (Or at least I try to make it that way. I’m no perfect parent and I am not necessarily consistent with enforcing consequences. I’m just doing my best, like all single moms. But I digress.) My kids know that hitting is not okay, and an acceptable defense is not “but I was mad at him!” When they use this line of reasoning (which is common), I say, “it’s okay to feel…

  • Cups like those in kitchen of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    Parenting

    Put Your Dishes in the Dishwasher

    I have a sign in my kitchen with our three house rules. They are rules that I borrowed from my aunt Nancy (aka “Nana”), ones that all of the grandkids know they must follow when they are at her house: Put your dishes in the dishwasher No crying unless there’s blood If you want something, get it yourself I mean, these are pretty solid rules. Clean up your own stuff. Don’t whine about things that aren’t a big deal. Try and solve your own problems. Sure, maybe there could be one about behaving compassionately, but I guess Nana assumed good intent towards others. Or maybe there could be one about…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley plays with her children in a fountain
    Parenting

    “Making It”

    When I was in graduate school, I listened to a presentation by a professor about single moms. At the time, I was a 28-year-old without children, so I didn’t question much of what he said (although he wasn’t a parent or a woman, which did make me think, “how does he really know what they think?” Actually, now that I write that as a 41-year-old single mom, I’m thinking, “there’s no way he truly understood what their experiences were like!” But I digress.) Anyway, his theory was that the single moms were grouped into two categories which basically consisted of “I can’t do this anymore” and “making it.” I actually…

  • Father of DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley cooks egg in kitchen
    Family & Friends

    I Miss My Dad

    I miss my dad. I mean, I guess we always miss our parents if they aren’t right in front of us. I certainly missed my dad as a young adult, and I know my kids miss me when I’m away from them now. But I think in times of stress, we miss our parents even more. Right now, I really miss my dad. We still talk almost every day. Sometimes it’s just for a minute or two and sometimes we have long sprawling conversations that last for over an hour. Sometimes we talk about the food we are cooking and sometimes we talk about world events. Sometimes the kids steal…

  • Students throw caps in air during graduation like that during speech by DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    Work

    Congrats, Graduates of 2020

    Welcome families, friends, teachers, and graduates.  To the class of 2020: thank you for inviting me to speak.  I’m so lucky to be here. Wait – actually, that was the start of last year’s speech, the one where you picked me to be your faculty speaker. This year, you didn’t pick me, but you didn’t pick anyone else either, since the graduation ceremony itself has been pushed back. We can’t even say for certain that it will happen this year. For the first time in many years, I will not watch a group of seniors – kids I’ve loved throughout their high school careers – walk across the graduation stage…