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I’m a Widow. You’d Think I’d Be Better at Doing Hard Things. I’m Not.
I’m about to do something really hard. And I’m a tiny bit nervous. Okay, I’m more than a tiny bit nervous. If I’m being honest, I’m legitimately anxious about this next step. It’s a big, hard step. And doing hard things is scary. It’s not like I’ve never done hard things. I lived with a mentally ill mother who died by suicide. And then I got married and had three kids and then my husband died. And then I dealt with everything that widowhood brings. And I survived it. I even found love again. Which was wonderful…and also, it was sometimes scary. Any big changes can be scary, I know…
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Along the Coastline
The music was loud and the wind whipped through the car as we drove north. Chris and I had dropped our kids at overnight camp in Maine and had a weekend to ourselves. The scenery, especially as we neared the border, was spectacular. We were in Eastport (“Easternmost city in the United States!“) and it seemed that all that was ahead of us was the sea and the Canadian provinces of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. “Shawn always said Nova Scotia was the most beautiful place in the world,” I said to Chris. “He wanted to take me there. But I can’t imagine it being more beautiful than this.” “Well,…
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Hypotheticals
I have been trying to figure out what to do about some changes in my health insurance. It’s been a fun process! (If you’re American, you know that was said with great sarcasm.) I’ve spent the past couple of days calling health insurance companies to figure out what’s the best coverage for my family in the future. Yes, I can see some details on the papers they provide, but it is not enough for me. I need to talk to a person who can really understand my needs. Every time I call someone, I actually feel bad for the customer service representative who gets me. At first, I must seem…
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Why I Write
It’s 5 am and the house is dark. The only light in the kitchen comes from the button on the dishwasher, telling me that it is now clean. The birds aren’t even up yet, but I am. I’ve been here often, in this place and at this time. It has been my writing spot for many years, especially before the sun was up. I didn’t make a conscious effort to wake up in the wee hours of the morning after Shawn died, but it often happened. I’d lay in bed for a while, tossing and turning, my mind often filled with anxiety. Were the kids okay? What was that rattle…
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Things That Remain: Risk (Part 4 of 4)
In this four-part series, I discuss the things that remain for me (and for some of my readers) in the years after widowhood. For many years, I convinced myself that if I just did all the right things, nothing bad would happen. I knew it was a stupid way to think. I’d lost my mom young, so I knew random horror was out there in the world. But I figured I’d had my share of bad luck already, so as long as I didn’t invite any more, life would be okay. After Shawn died, I obsessed about the unfairness of his death. Furthermore, I was irate that all the hard…
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Things That Remain: Accomplishment (Part 3 of 4)
In this four-part series, I discuss the things that remain for me (and for some of my readers) in the years after widowhood. I sobbed the first time I tried to change the wiper fluid in my car. I didn’t know how to do it. I mean, I had just turned 39 years old for chrissakes, an age at which you should know how to do such a thing. I’d been widowed for about two months and had pulled into a gas station to get gas and clean the dirty windshield. Here’s what happened, from the blog post, “Who’s Saving Our Basement?“ I got out to clean my windshield and…
There’s No Handbook for How to Do This
