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

    I Wanna Dance With Somebody

    When I was a new widow, one of the things I hated most was ending up on the dance floor alone. It’s not like I’d never danced without Shawn. I mean, I’m a decently confident person, and I never needed him in order to dance at a party or a bar or a wedding. It’s just that I was so used to dancing with him after 15 years together. I dated men before Shawn who didn’t like to dance, so when we met and I realized he had no insecurities about getting out on the dance floor, I happily joined him at any chance I could get. When he was…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley walking with her sons
    Parenting

    Can I Take Out the Trash?

    (I wrote the piece below for an outside publication a few months ago. It didn’t end up running, so I’m publishing it here. Obviously, some of the details are from a time when we could interact with people outside our household.) I’ve been worrying about my boys lately. Not for any specific reason. I mean, they seem fine. They like to play outside and ride their bikes and jump on the neighbor’s trampoline. Tommy is learning to read. Austin is a whiz at math. Neither of my sons cause trouble at school and both boys have solid friendships. But there’s so much that worries me in the years ahead, especially…

  • Groceries like that delivered to DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley
    Family & Friends

    A Genuine Offer, Freely Given, With Gladness

    Okay, here’s a little secret about widowed parenting (or at least my version of widowed parenting): sometimes I leave my kids home alone. I try not to. Claire is old enough to watch her brothers, yes, but Tommy is still little and I don’t want to put such a burden on her. That first summer after Shawn died, I actually looked up what the rules were about leaving kids home alone. My dad was gone and I wanted to be able to run around the block or pop out to get some milk without taking all three of them every single time. I was dismayed to learn that they needed…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley plays with son while sitting in a chair at park
    Things That Suck

    Breaking Point

    Monday was a beautiful day here in Washington, and after a very frustrating session of trying to help Tommy read, I decided that we should spend a little time laying in the hammock. I got in and he sat in my lap. Then he laid his head on my stomach and we swung back and forth and I thought, “this is a bit of perfection.” Austin snapped a photo and when he showed it to me, I thought it was so cute that I sent it to a friend. My friend texted me back something sweet, but then added, “did you see the stay-at-home order?” I immediately went to my…

  • Stock image of couple kissing in park for DC widow blog by Marjorie Brimley
    Ask A Widow

    Ask a Widow: What If He’s Not Shawn?

    People love to write me about dating – how to start doing it, how to talk to someone you’re interested in, how to handle the dramas of dating (there are so many). One of the things I see repetitively on my blog are questions or comments about the specific issues pertinent to dating as a widow. There are a number of these, but one in particular stands out. I’ll paraphrase, but it usually goes something like this: I’m trying to date again because I don’t want to be alone. I am going out on dates, but nothing feels quite right. At the end of each date I think, “that person…

  • DC widow blog writer Marjorie Brimley hugs daughter Claire
    Holidays

    Eleven

    My sweet Claire, today is your birthday. You are eleven. This one seems different than the others, somehow. You are so much older and wiser, so much more aware of the world around you. Maybe it’s how all 11-year-olds are. But something makes me think you have just a bit more insight than many kids your age. The light in your eyes is bright, but you have wisdom in them too. That, I think, is something that’s special about you. Life hasn’t always been easy on you, but you have made the best lemonade out of the lemons you’e been dealt. Yes, you lost your father when you were just…